Draconnic Shennanigans - Episode 30

Chapter Thirty: A Darkening Unicorn

 

(Art not mine, all credit to LongmaAi)

Despite everything, the following days did settle into something of a routine for them all. As they were not required to follow Myslynn every where as long as they stayed in her mansion, it gave them a much needed rest stop for, well, everything. Kaelin strangely enough found it hardest to settle. She had thought that, as she'd never had a sanctuary like this before, that she would jump at the chance but it seemed that part of her struggled to accept the notion that she was safe, that here at least her grandfather wasn't going to be able to reach her. It lead to a short temper and her trying to stay out of the way of the rest of the King's Special as much as possible. Oddly it was Estella who picked up on the fact that Kaelin was uncomfortable with their lack of peril. The younger woman, and Kaelin was sure she was a woman and not a girl, took to inviting Kaelin to join her for a cup of tea at regular moments of the day. Kaelin initially refused, too on edge to want to socialize but as the hours and days started to add up she found she said yes just for something to do.

Estella proved to be a very understanding tea partner, the steam curling from the spout of the pot the first afternoon they shared.

"I miss the rain," she said, looking out of the window at the cavern roof, cup cradled in her hands.

"Why would you do that?" Kaelin asked bluntly, "It's cold, wet and makes it harder to run away, why would you miss it?"

"Well I've always been grateful that I can get dry again afterwards," Estella noted, "And I've always found it a restful sound. People don't travel so much in wet weather and most animals stay in their dens so you are less likely to have trouble on the road in wet weather. Granted it does depend if you can find some dry wood to get a fire going but there is something reassuring about the sound of rain on oilskin above you. It fills up the silence so it is easier to just enjoy someones company without talking to them. Rather like the sound of the sea."

"I've never heard the sea," Kaelin admitted, fidgeting with her mug.

"You haven't?" Estella asked, "That surprises me. I would have thought you would have."

"Nah," Kaelin admitted, "I was headed in that direction but there was always something that got in the way." She gulped her tea, making sure she didn't have to say what those things were.

"I used to watch the water from the attic window," Estella admitted, "There was a place between two of the hills where you could see the ocean on a clear day. The gulls used to fly over my father's house sometimes. I always used to wonder why they sounded so lonely and sad when they cried."

"Think I know what you mean," Kaelin observed, "There's this sea captain we met on our way to Nether Wallop who has this blooming great albatross as a friend. Sounds like a lost soul when it cries."

 "Do you think it is because they want to have friends but life always drives them apart?" Estella asked.

 "Who'd want to have friends?" Kaelin grunted sourly.

"Well having a pack does mean that you have someone watching your back," Estella shrugged, "I'm not that I wouldn't have left my father's house if I didn't have Valodrael to watch out for me, even with the time limit." She sipped her from her tea cup while Kaelin chugged at her mug.

"So did you ever go down to the sea?" Kaelin asked after a moment.

"Oh yes," Estella smiled, "The wonderful thing about the sea is that it always coming in and going out so if you wade out into the water and then walk along the beach it just erases your tracks. A broom to your footsteps and it covers your scent with the brine of sea. I have always felt grateful to the iodine of sea weed. Though I'm not so sold on the smell of old fish."

"Don't think anybody is," Kaelin grunted.

"It's amazing what you can put up with when you are desperate," Estella remarked, "And it is amazing what you can learn when you are desperate."

"Oh ain't it just," Kaelin said with bitterness, "But just how did a rich man's child learn to steal?"

"Well I did have the advantage of having a passenger that people don't expect," Estella smiled, "It is amazing where a pretty little girl can get herself if she acts like she's clueless as to what those looks mean."

"What looks?" Kaelin frowned.

"The sort of looks that Greely was undoubtedly sending your way," Estella said bluntly. Kaelin coughed and choked, nearly dropping her mug.

"You know exactly what I mean, don't you?" Estella's gaze was utterly level.

"I... um..." Kaelin faltered.

"It's why you left, isn't it?" Estella didn't look away. After a moment, Kaelin nodded.

"Well you are not the only one out there," Estella sighed after a moment and sipped her tea before putting her cup down so she could refill Kaelin's mug, "Neither am I for that matter, though I think Val and I have left fewer in our wake."

"What you mean?" Kaelin accepted the refill, warming her fingers around the mug.

"Well if there are fewer monsters in the forest then fewer fauns get taken from their mothers," Estella observed, "And Valodrael has... quite the appetite for predators." She smiled. "I would have thought you would remember what happened to the pack who thought the slaves in the depths of the Snake Clan Citadel were going to be easy prey."

"Erm..." Kaelin shifted uneasily, "Doesn't it bother you? What he does to them? Doesn't it freak you out, just a little bit?"

"Doesn't biting through their necks freak you out just a little bit?" Estella asked back, "Or pulling their heads off? Or mashing them into the floor with a great big hammer? I would like to think that Val's method of disposal is a little neater than all of the above."

"What, freezing them to death or eating them?" Kaelin asked.

"I have to admit that I assumed you were talking about the eating them part," Estella refilled her own cup and topped up Kaelin's again, "That is the one that scares most people."

"I think it is actually the fact that you can see them through the back of his head for a little while afterwards that really freaks people out," Kaelin admitted.

"Yes well, thank the Domilii for that one," Estella helped herself to a cracker.

"The Domilii?" Kaelin frowned.

"The one who was talking to Nanny Tatters through those rune stones," Estella informed her, "The one who is in cahoots with your grandfather. Valodrael recognized him. Would hardly forget him, seeing as that dangleweed is the one who scorched the Burning Continent."

"The Burning Continent?" Kaelin frowned, "You mentioned something about that in the kitchen's of Ulrich's friends didn't you? Something about further east than east..."

"Further east than east, beyond the furthest shore, the Burning Land does to Heaven soar," Estella quoted, "You could see the ash cloud from my father's house, hovering over the horizon. People didn't talk about it but we always knew something bad was coming when it crawled across the heavens towards us. Not that I needed a weather system to warn me of bad things, just my father hosting his friends." She sipped her tea again. Kaelin narrowed her eyes as she frowned. The way Estella said it was making all sorts of things in her head ring.

"Was it one of your father's friends..."

"Yes," Estella stated, "And if my father had known he would have killed me for bringing disgrace on the family. It never seems to be the men who pay the price for it, odd that."

"And you don't think that he would have forgiven you?" Kaelin asked.

"Would your grandfather?" Estella replied. Kaelin thought about it.

"Probably not," she admitted, "So you got tired of it as well?"

"That and I was on a time limit," Estella admitted, "Another five months and my father would have known for sure. I have been lucky, I have always found what I needed just about the time I needed it." She held a hand up for one of the talismans to settle on her finger. "I guess that's because, some how, I have always held on to something of myself." The red cardinal twittered its liquid song answered by the purple toad who sounded like a violin.

"I'm not sure I follow," Kaelin said.

"Girls aren't supposed to work with wood where I am from," Estella explained, "Paint little pictures, embroider her husband's clothes, play a musical instrument, sing sweetly and maybe recite poetry, though we are not supposed to write any of our own, that would require too much intelligence, but not work wood. Probably because carving wood requires us to be able to hold a knife and that might put all sorts of ideas into a girl's head."

"Like just how much she'd like to carve her husband I bet," Kaelin came close to laughing.

"Exactly," Estella smiled as the red cardinal took flight again, "My first knife was a flint stone that I broke. Talisman wood, if you are carving what the wood wants to be, is easy to carve, you just need to have the feel for what is inside the wood, trying to come out."

She lifted a hand and rubbed at the bottom of her ribs on the right hand side.

"What's up?" Kaelin asked.

"My father's last gift to me," Estella admitted, "He found me carving one of my friends and well, administered chastisement. It aches on occasion. Thankfully, the other talismans were able to hide themselves so he didn't find them. Had the gardeners burn the tree where it stood." She fell silent.

"My grandpa used to put us in the ring," Kaelin admitted, putting her cup down and pressing her face against her raised knees, "You could try to fight back but that just made it take longer. When one of them was tried of slapping you around, another would step in. He wouldn't let us look away. If you looked away, you'd be next in the ring. I always wondered when it was going to be my turn, most of the other runts where finished with long before they reached my age but he always kept me out of the ring. The other kids hated me for that." She snorted after a moment. "The grown ups hated me for that. I always wondered what he was protecting me for."

They sat in silence for a long minute.

"Would you like me to do your hair?" Estella suddenly asked.

"What?" Kaelin stared at her.

"Your hair," Estella repeated, "It is beautiful, I love the way that it is ticked with all those different shades of brown." Estella reached out and ran her fingers through it, lifting a lock, "It really is beautiful but, I'm sorry girl, your ends are seriously split." She held up a hair so Kaelin could see that it had two ends. "That must make it a pain to brush out."

"I don't really brush it," Kaelin admitted.

"Would you like me too?" Estella asked.

"Ummmm," Kaelin dithered. Estella stood up and snagged a hair brush off the little table by the bed. Crouching behind Kaelin she started brushing out a handful of Kaelin's hair. Kaelin tensed and winced but as the brush gradually pulled through her hair smoother and smoother she found herself relaxing without giving herself permission for it. Estella pulled a small set of scissors from a pocket and their small snips dropped into the silence as split ends, tangles and frizz fell to the floor.

"My mother used to do this for me all the time," Estella said as she worked.

"Really?" Kaelin asked, wondering why a mother would do such a thing. Her own mother was... what? She realized she couldn't remember.

"She wasn't supposed to," Estella admitted, "It was something the maid was supposed to do but Mother always found an excuse to do it herself. I sometimes wonder how she is doing, what has happened since I left. I wonder what she would have thought of Valodrael."

"Wondering what she would have thought of your boyfriend?" Kaelin asked. Estella stilled and blushed for a moment. Kaelin sniggered, relaxing out of her protective curl, letting her knees drop. Estella rolled her eyes and smiled before going back to brushing Kaelin's hair. 

"Does he ever get bored?" Kaelin asked, "You know, when you are doing stuff like this? Does he ever get impatient to be on the move again? Guys aren't usually ones for the home building."

Estella paused again and tilted her head as if listening to something else.

"He's napping right now," she stated, "That is probably a high compliment of Myslynn and the dwergs, the fact that he feels we are safe enough here for him to doze off and leave me unguarded."

"He's that protective of you?" Kaelin asked, tilting her head, making the brush snag.

"Careful," Estella stopped the brush stroke and started over again, "He'd been struggling to find... someone like me for, well, centuries. Unwilling hosts wear out so quickly and there is always the fight between what Valodrael needs to do and what the host wanted. Even if it wasn't for the fact he likes me, there is the fact I've been the first who was willing to invite him in. We work well together, not unlike you and the King's Special, well except for the priest. He..."

"Is a murderous basket who only thinks about himself?" Kaelin asked.

"Yes. That," Estella agreed and Kaelin sniggered. It was quiet in the room, save for the sound of the hair brush and Kaelin let her shoulders unravel. Maybe she could be safe here.

*

 Said priest was deep into the contents of Myslynn's library, his beetling eyebrows drawn down over his nose as he peered at the pages. There had to be something he could gain from these stacks of pages, he was sure of it. Of course the best thing would be to access the dwergs glyph magic but even if the dwergs had been willing to share their secrets, he couldn't read their texts. He wasn't even sure how they wrote, whether it was left to right or right to left. The few times he'd managed to sneak a peak at the glyph books had given him the sneaking suspicion that they were actually writing top to bottom of the page. Not that he had been given much of a chance to look at the glyph books.

He lifted his eyes a moment to glare at where Bunrik was quietly dusting books across the library. Though the servant was acting like she was only there to keep up with the routine maintenance Jeremiah knew that she was there to keep him away from the glyph books. Like it would make any difference. If Nanny Tatters could steal their little secrets then so could anyone else, including him, though... He smiled suddenly.

Did he need to try and access the books of glyphs when he had his very own primer right here? He kept working on the books until after a meal break, where upon he went in search of his little pet, Gerald gripping on to his miter as he stepped it out through the mansion. Nanny Tatters had been housed in the foundry in one of the storage rooms that housed the huge ingots of blast forged steel that were waiting to be rolled into shape for the locomotives. She lifted her head as Jeremiah entered the room, her single blue threaded black eye blinking at him. Jeremiah wondered when she had regained the ability to blink but pushed the concern aside, there were more important things to consider. He settled himself on a stack of ingots and gestured for her to approach him. She rose slowly and padded towards him. Jeremiah narrowed his eyes.

"Are you getting umpty with me?" he asked, "Do I need to remind you about what happens to people who get umpty with me?"

Nanny Tatters sat and meekly bowed her head, her gaze a blank, unchallenging pool of his power.

Jeremiah frowned, testing the connection with his mind. There didn't seem to be anything different with her, there wasn't the feel that he'd started getting off the Ash Elf puppet who seemed to be regaining something of his mind. Jeremiah relented. He must be just imagining it. She was probably slow because she had been such an unhealthy, decrepit beast already before they had killed her. That must be it. It was probably arthritis or some other such old age nonsense.

With that out of the way he started probing deeper. There was stuff in her mind, floating threads of thoughts and memories that were slowly unraveling. He could just take hold of one of them and tug.

"They hurt my little birdies. I don't like them hurting my little birdies," Nanny Tatters' voice echoed out of the memory. Jeremiah frowned. That wasn't what he wanted. He took hold of another thread and pulled.

"You remember what you promised. Nanny Tatters wants what is her rightful due, yes she does. Don't you be forgetting it, you naughty little man," Nanny Tatter's little girl giggle grated on Jeremiah's nerves. It was ridiculous, a creature as big as a dragon giggling like a little thing from the playground. There was no dignity in it. If you were going to be the servant of a powerful wizard then you should strive to be as dignified as they were so that you reflected well for your master. Jeremiah tasted something sour as he realized that the King's Special had probably done her master a service in removing such a pathetic servant from his stable. That rather spoiled the victory and added just that little taint to the triumph he had felt. Bother it.

He looked again, digging deeper into her mind. It had to be in there somewhere, somewhere she was storing the details of the dwerg's glyph magic, if he could just shake it out of her then he wouldn't need to always be waiting on trying to convince them to hand over the knowledge. After all he knew that was a losing game. The dwergs would never willingly hand over the knowledge of their magic, selfish little peons that they were, and they would undoubtedly be cantankerous if he just took it. It was why he hadn't just quietly disposed of Bunrik in the library. Unlike the Ash Elves who viewed murder as a perfectly acceptable method of gaining what you want, the dwergs were more akin to King Tatsuya and that judgemental metal stick insect of his than they realized. If he gave in the urge to just take one of them out to clear the path then undoubtedly they would all jump in his way and he would need time to decode the glyph patterns, time he would not have if he was running from the little squealers in this labyrinth of theirs.

He probed deeper. Come on, somewhere in here there had to be...

The words to the fog cloud spell bubbled up through the molasses of Nanny Tatters' mind.

"Stupid, useless bint!" Jeremiah slapped her, the sound echoing loudly in the store, "That is useless to me here and now. Where is your knowledge of the dwergs' magic? Where is the magic you stole? You took it, you knew it, you used it. I am your master, tell me what I need to know!"

Nanny Tatters righted her head and swiveled her gaze to look at him but there was no intelligence in that gaze, no will to thwart him, just the dumb insolence of the animal, the dumb wit, the lack brains, the brute emptiness of the puppet. He smacked her again out of frustration and next second found his mace of office in his hand. He did not remember pulling it from its cord on his belt, did not remember lifting it high, ready to smash it through her skull but somehow it was there. He forced it down, trying to remember that she did have some uses and they weren't out of the woods yet.

"I have prepared a location for you Nanny Tatters," a voice Jeremiah didn't recognize for a moment bubbled up out of Nanny Tatters' mind and then he remembered the figure of glowing blue light in Nanny Tatters' lair, "I believe that it will be suitable for your needs and I have taken precautions to conceal it from the dwarfs of the deeper layers of Hestia. From there you should be able to co-ordinate the recruitment drive and the acquisition of what we need from our little run away. Once we have access to those regeneration balms of his then it should be a fairly simple matter to create the alterations we need."

Jeremiah frowned, the implications percolating through his mind. Nanny Tatters couldn't give him the dwergs' glyph magic because she had never known it, she had been nothing but the pawn in someone else's game, moving how someone else wanted her to. Yes she was powerful in some ways, dragons always were, but she had been pathetic all the same. She had thought that she and the gentleman in blue had a bargain but it was easy enough to see that she was being strung along, a puppet on a string even before he, Jeremiah, had managed to get his hooks into her. She had been a tool that would have been thrown away when the time was right, the talk of ascendancy nothing but a hallow promise.

Jeremiah hung his mace of office back on his belt, his lip curling as he gazed down at her. She really was wretched, a creature who should have been so much more brought to heel like a dog. It was no wonder Kaelin hadn't objected to Nanny Tatters tagging along, it probably brought her some comfort to have someone who was equal to her tagging along as well.

Jeremiah turned and left the store, not even bothering to bang the door behind him. Really there was no need.

On his way out he spotted Thorian helping out in the foundry. Well at least the orc crossbreed knew his purpose and had the sense to not strive to high. Work like that was all he was suited for.

Thorian saw the priest walking out of the foundry and wondered for a second what he was doing down there, amongst the heat and the sparks and the steam and sweat but then he shrugged and carried on with what he was doing.

"Hey Big Man!" A foredwerg called, "We need another half dozen of the grade sixes, quick as you like!"

"Yes sir!" Thorian grinned, striding through a shower of sparks as one of the drop hammers beat out the time on the bend of metal that it was smoothing out. This was the life! Nothing complex or complicated, just a simple job in a big place, with people who understood to keep out from under his feet. Thorian stared hard at the row of doors, going over the lesson in his head. Once he was sure that he'd picked the right sort room he opened the door and picked up a stack of ingots, muscles rippling under his skin as he did so. Six, that was a word he'd picked up working here, it meant the fingers and thumb of one hand plus the thumb of the other. If you had that many of a thing then you had six. He was learning something new. He was going to have to mark it down on his bit of paper. It was a lot easier then all that funny writing stuff. That funny writing had so many bits and pieces to it, the numbers though, number were a lot easier, they went round and round like little mice running in a circle. He figured he'd be able to remember the numbers a lot easier than the writing.

"Where you want them?" he asked as he came back, arms straining to take the weight.

"By the mark two roller," the foredwerg pointed it out, "Keep your fingers away from the barrels, I don't need to be sending you down to Sinbar today, it would not look good on my report."

"Aye sir," Thorian grinned, humping the stack of ingots over to the place and setting them down. He straightened, knuckled his back until something popped and then looked around.

"Over here big man," a dwerg waved and Thorian strode over to help haul on the chains lifting the re-tubed boiler and throat plate up and into place on the boiler frame. There was a cheer as it settled into place and Thorian beamed.

Yup, this was the life, simple work that used his strength, the one skill he really had and was simple and clear to understand. He could get used to this. Part of him wondered if he was really going to want to leave here when it was time to go. He'd never thought that he would find a place among dwarf people. Yeah, they said they were different to the dwarfs he was used to but they still looked like dwarfs so it was hard to understand the difference.

Still, he felt good here. He realized that as he help haul the buckets to refill the quenching tanks. Still, another realization bothered him as he chatted over a cup of brown at the break time, there were things he couldn't talk about here. Though the dwergs always said that they were not the dwarfs, Thorian still didn't like talking about the battles and kick arounds he'd enjoyed with his family. Dwergs were still too similar to dwarfs for him to risk it. Oh, he didn't stop enjoying the dwergs always being able to find him a job his great, big muscles could do but at the same time...

Well he wouldn't miss Jeremiah, that fat priest could go swim for all he cared. Thorian didn't always know what those fancy, dancy  words Jeremiah used meant but he was fairly sure that Jeremiah was taking the mike out of him a lot of the time.

Still, Thorian realized something as he nattered with Estella that night and she played a counting game with him to help him learn the numbers - he realized that he would miss Ulrich and Kaelin if he stayed behind with the dwergs.  Thorian knew he wasn't the smartest but he liked the pair of them and he didn't feel right about leaving them with just Jeremiah for company.

"There are not many simple people in Hell but the ignorant are crammed in there so tight you can't see the floor for them."

He wasn't sure what all them words meant but he figured that meant Ulrich thought he was good people.

"Er, Stella?" he asked one night as he frowned over the counters of the counting game she'd carved from off cuts of talisman wood, "What's Hell?"

Estella frowned and rubbed her chin, putting down a four.

"The way I understand it, is that this," she tapped her chest, "This body is just a mount for who we truly are."

"Erm, not sure I follow," Thorian muttered, putting down a two.

"We have our bodies," Estella explained, "But they are just what we look like. Who we really are is the person who does the thinking, the feeling and the deciding." She put down a three.

"I think I get it," Thorian frowned, "I think." He put down another three, frowned some more and then worked it out,. "Two over ten."

"Well done," Estella nodded her ascent to the verdict and looked at the counters in her hand. "So how about a question," she put down a five, "Who does the dreaming when you go to sleep?"

"Ah, I get it," Thorian nodded, "So who you really are is the person who does the dreaming when your eyes are closed." He put down a three. "Ten to me!"

"Score to you," Estella smiled as Thorian added the pile of counters to the stack on his side of the table. "So the idea is that when your body dies, the person you truly are leaves this world and goes on to the next but what sort of world you go on to depends on what you have done here."

"How so?" Thorian asked as he laid down a nine.

"If you have put in the effort and the work and the sweat to leave this world a better place for others than you found it then you get to go to a place called heaven," Estella explained and laid down a four, "Three over ten. Heaven, paradise, nirvana, there seems to be many different names for it but it boils down to a place where life is better than it is here, a comfort and a reward for putting in the hard work."

"So what's this Hell place that Ulrich was talking about?" Thorian asked as he laid down a five.

"The opposite of course," Estella smiled, "There is always an opposite." She put down a two. "Ten to me."

"Fair dues," Thorian smiled, "So this Hell place isn't that nice?"

"Some say that it is a lake of burning sulfur that scorches you for eternity," Estella noted as she opened the game with a two, "Some say it is a frozen wasteland where you are constantly whipped on by the lashes of a blizzard, forever seeking a shelter you cannot find. Others believe it is a darkness that you can never escape from."

"Can't say we orc people think about it much," Thorian admitted, "You live, you die, if you are lucky you get a few good fights in along the way and you get to do some loving while you go along. Once you're done, you're done, that's the way the world goes, no point fighting what is." He put down a one.

"The way my mother told me about it is she said that heaven and hell actually look exactly the same," Estella pondered the counters in her hand, "It is a huge great feast with every thing you love most to eat there before you but when you die you find that your back has locked in place and your elbows have disappeared so you cannot feed yourself." She put down a three.

"So what's the difference?" Thorian frowned putting down a four. "Ten to me."

"Well played," Estella smiled, "And the difference is that Heaven is were all the people who cared for others go so they feed each other and help each other and so everyone is content, whereas in Hell all the selfish, ignorant people won't help each other so they starve in the face of plenty."

"So that's what's Ulrich meant," Thorian nodded, "About there being so many ignorant people in that Hell place you cannot see the floor for them. Another game?"

"Why not," Estella smiled, "Practice does make perfect."

Listening at the door Myslynn pulled her beard and thought.

*

Ulrich found himself practicing with Quenril and the other Ash Elves most 'mornings' or prime as Myslynn called it. Quenril was fairly tactful about it, as Ulrich was his sister's favorite and that carried a whole host of weight among the Ash Elves but he did suggest that Ulrich needed to improve his skill level to be truly worthy of carrying an Ash Elf blade.

"Who did you kill to gain that blade?" Tasnar asked when they took a pause during their first workout.

"Well it depends which one you are asking about,"  Ulrich replied, trying to not betray how hard he was puffing. "This one I picked up off a bandit, second day of our travels I think. Come to think of it, Jeremiah was very insistent that I keep it. I wonder what that was about."

"Undoubtedly he was ignorant of what you carried and thought it was the property of one of the Betrayers," Tasnar said.

"I doubt that," Quenril observed, "He is a worshiper of the Destroying Dragon, he worships pain and discord. He knew what you were carrying and knew the price we would have exacted under normal circumstances. He is one to not trust and we should all take care around him." Behind him Sabal flicked his fingers in a gesture to ward off evil.

"I've noticed that you do that often whenever Jerry talks about his god," Ulrich noted as he helped himself to a beaker of water, "Why?"

"That one's... god," Quenril shuddered as if scared by coming so close to having to mention the name, "We know him. The other races have such short memories and the Betrayers have deliberately forgotten but we remember what he is and we remember the God War that happened after the Begetters were cast down."

"So what is he?" Ulrich asked. The three Ash Elves looked at one another, none willing to answer his question but compelled to by the fact that Ulrich was their sisters favorite.

"The Begetters made the dragons and the world once again knew the might of the eldest race," Quenril said at last, "The dragons took to the skies in their many bloodlines and the Begetters flew with them, weaving the elements in the tapestry of magic but somewhere, somehow something not made by the Begetters arose."

"What?" Ulrich settled to hearing out the whole story. This was interesting in the extreme and he had a feeling that it would be most useful in the future.

"We do not know," Quenril admitted, "But it appears that the fae became jealous of the dragons and sort to make their own."

"That or the dragons cast such a strong shadow of life that the fae realm responded to it to create its own," Tasnar interrupted.

"The Crone dragons are made in the foulest rituals," Quenril snapped, "The fae seeking to corrupt the Begetter's great work, to debase the perfection of their creations..."

"But the Gealach dragons are not," Tasnar countered, "They arise by the magic of the fae realm itself and enhance the Begetters creation, helping to heal the hurts caused by their exile. Just as all regular beings have their echoes in the fae, so to have the dragons and it would be foolish to deny that."

Quenril glared at his brother, who looked back unconcerned by his siblings annoyance.

"You know I am right brother and it serves no purpose to hold on to that anger at our differences of opinions," Tasnar said, "The world is changing and we must change with it. Our sister's wisdom in accepting this one from the human kind has been proven right. As he him self note in the bowels of our once home, the Snake Clan is dead but while we live the family continues. We must accept that we will no longer be able to exist as just our selves, we have no women who will favor us any more. If our people and our history are to survive we must offer ourselves to those outside of the people and that means accepting that not all those who believe in different stories to us are our enemies, including among ourselves. Our family must now be the thing of greatest value to us, not these disputes over words."

Quenril looked away frowning, his siblings words a challenge that he struggled to accept.

"What you suggest is not done!" Sabal snapped.

"So you would damn us to extinction?" Tasnar asked, "We are all family to Lady Zilvra, we cannot breed, hence why her wisdom in accepting this one has been proven correct. Their children will not be enough to secure the bloodline and the knowledge of our people. If we are to survive as a people then we must all offer ourselves to women of other... peoples." 

"It is not done," Sabal shook his head.

"If it is not," Quenril said heavily, "Then brother is right, we die will out and the last who were loyal to the Begetters will be no more. I don't think we have a choice."

"That and to say it is not done makes you a liar, cousin," Tasnar smiled with a little teasing mixed in, "I saw how you looked at the Lady Estella when she let the dragon rise to face down the fat one. You would not object if that one chose you."

"I... Um..." Sabal turned a very interesting shade of purple and Ulrich had to hide his smile as he realized that was an Ash Elf blush.

"Either way," Tasnar turned back to Ulrich, "Either by accident or foul design the fae gave rise to two dragons who were not the creation of the Begetters."

"One them being the same species as Nanny Tatters?" Ulrich asked, "That thing that now runs at the heels of Jerrys?"

"Yes," Quenril's tone was sour, "We should have burnt her corpse to ashes but we dare not face the one who controls her, not while his god favors him."

 "That's a point," Ulrich noted, leaning forward, "You are saying the Begetters created the... regular dragons, the fae created two others, so what is the origin of this god. And for that matter - Valodrael. What's he?"

"When the Begetters came to know of the esoteric dragons they realized that their research was incomplete, more was needed to be known," Quenril explained, "What had been created by blind chance or malicious will needed to be refined, perfected and so they went back to work."

"The Begetters were ever trying to recall the Elder Race from the void," Sabal's blush had settled down, "If the dragons could be even greater than their first bloodlines proved then the Begetters would fine a way to improve their creation."

"That's a point," Ulrich held up a finger, "Did the Begetters create all the draconnic bloodlines? It is just that I have heard that some of the dragon species are referred to as hybrid species by the scholars."

The three brothers looked at each other.

"I have heard some of that sort," Sabal admitted, "But I don't know any examples."

"Tropic dragons for one," Ulrich grinned, thinking of Amelia, the dragon that was helping revitalize the Dead Swamp.

"Tropic dragons?" Sabal frowned at Ulrich.

"Bright orange, has a head more like a crocodile than a dragon, where ever she walks grass sprouts in her footprints and she spits lumps of a metal that explodes on contact with water," Ulrich told them, "Goes by the name Amelia and some how Jerry managed to charm her. I just hope her taste improves as she grows up."

The three Ash Elves looked at one another.

"There is no description of such a beast in our records," Tasnar admitted, "Do you think that they could... breed across the bloodlines?"

"Fire and salt," Sabal suggested, "It would match the metal that burns when it is not in oil."

"It would take the mind of a Pupil of the Begetters to confirm this," Quenril admitted, "But it seems possible. Still it would have happened after the Great Betrayal and the God War."

"So what did the Begetters create once they knew they design could be improved?" Ulrich asked.

"They created the Astral and the Void dragons," Quenril answered, "They could spin the webs of magic with the ease of breath, either to create or destroy. They seemed smaller than the other dragon races but none dared challenge them in combat for it was just a seeming, they could be small enough to enter a building or large enough to slam a greater Fire Dragon out of the air."

"They were also the first to be able to change their shapes," Sabal added, "They were the first to be able to stand before their creators in their creator's shape. It was they who taught the ability to the other dragons, those who were willing to learn it. Theirs were the first of the Dragonkin."

"And don't you find that idea intriguing?" Tasnar smiled. Sabal turned purple again.

"Enough of that," Quenril snapped, "And enough sitting around, we must be sharp."

"Sharp as the daggers that cut through night," the other two agreed.

"Sharp as the daggers that cut through night," Ulrich repeated as he stood and earned a nod of respect from Quenril. He'd obviously just learnt a tradition greeting of the Ash Elves. It was only later that he realized that they had rather neatly avoided actually answering the question about Jeremiah's god. There again there was always the future to pry it out of them.

"Well I never expected to be an envoy to a race of people that others think are bogey men but this should be interesting if I ever travel back to my father's estate," he suppressed the smile that thought brought to him and concentrated on the training bout in front of him.

A couple of days later, he managed to beg the afternoon off and headed over to the foundry as Thorian had mentioned  about seeing Handrun walking about with something that looked a little like Marmduke but not much.

He found the dwerg tinkering with a joint in the apprentice shed.

"Wow!" Ulrich admitted as he gazed upon the automation sitting on the stone bench, leg extended before it, "That is quite the glow up."

Handrun looked round and grinned.

"He has come out right well," he admitted, "Once I'd polished all that muck off I found out that it was some sort of brass under all that grim. Not sure what sort, I've tested it. Works like steel and reacts like it when you smack it one, watch." He picked up a small pick and slammed it against Marmaduke's breast plate.

"Careful, good sir!" Ulrich started forward, "A split now..." He stopped staring that the dent in Marmaduke's shell.

"As I said," Handrun observed, "It acts like steel but it doesn't seem to rust. I haven't found a scrap of rust on his any where, he was just utterly filthy."

"Well, I would say that his creator wasn't the most mentally stable being on the planet," Ulrich leaned closer, studying the inside of Marmaduke's knee joint, "From what I've been learning from Quenril and his family, the Crone dragons are born insane and just get worse the longer they are batting around on Hestia."

"How can you get worse than insane?" Handrun asked.

"With just how powerful and how unstable you are," Ulrich figured, "After all, I did know an elf once who heard voices in his head."

"That can't be good," Handrun observed.

"Actually it wasn't bad," Ulrich counted the number of gears in the knee, "None of the voices seemed to be unkind. There was one who wasn't going to accept him being pushed around by anyone and he could fight like a cornered vampire when up against a bandit crew but I found him to be a O.K traveling companion."

"So what happened?" Handrun asked.

"I was arrested for gouging a bunch of toffs in a gambling den," Ulrich admitted, "I wonder what happened to him. I hope he's alright. But either way he was fine and I never found any of the voices to be the sort that told him to do bad stuff to people. Yeah, most people probably counted him as insane but he wasn't badly insane, whereas Crone Dragons start there and go down hill, fairly rapidly."

"That can't be good," Handrun admitted. He was silent for a moment. "Friend Ulrich are you saying that there are many sorts of dragons?"

"Up in the world without a roof, yes," Ulrich said.

"It's just down here, dragons are things of human tales," Handrun admitted, "Most people don't really believe in them."

"Well humans exist as you can see, so dragons are no less real," Ulrich smiled, "Anyway, we may have dragons but I'm not sure we have the sort of people who can fix Marmaduke so can you teach me to look after him."

Handrun looked at him.

"Unless you are staying here for a good copy of months I won't be able to teach you the theory behind the mechanisms," he admitted.

"I understand," Ulrich admitted, "But could you teach me enough of the practical that I have a chance of keeping him working if we get into a fight with something that does manage to damage him a little? After all, I did manage to over ride Nanny Tatters' control and I had only a child's interest in clockwork and springs to go on then."

Handrun thought about it a moment.

 "Alright," he said, "How much time are you going to spend down here?"

"I think I can divide it fairly evenly between training with Quenril and the others in the mor... in the prime and down here in the beta," Ulrich smiled as he realized that he had remembered the dwerg's terms for morning and afternoon.

"We might have time," Handrun admitted, "If you keep that man brain of your's focused hard enough."

"I'll endeavor to," Ulrich reassured.

"Right," Handrun gestured at the tools laid out on the bench beside Marmaduke, "Screwdriver, size three."

Ulrich soon realized that he was going to have to source a smock or something from some where as this job was not one to be done in your best wear as the grease seemed to get every where.

A couple of days later Estella smiled as she turned away from the doorway of the apprentice workshop. Seeing Ulrich dressed in a workman's smock had been rather entertaining but seeing how hard he was concentrating on learning to put his automation back together, she'd decided against disturbing him. She'd gone for a walk around the mansion and the outer edge of the foundry for some exercise as Kaelin had decided that she wanted some time alone. Estella expect that it had something to do with the locket that Kaelin had been wearing openly around her neck. Estella was fairly sure she'd seen the painted portrait move in there. Well, if Kaelin had a little friend then who was she to object? After all she had a much bigger friend of her own so she could hardly talk. She patted the little bag on her belt to make sure that it was still there. Valodrael sloshed and grumped.

"I did take those teeth without permission," Estella noted, "It is only right that I replace them."

"Maybe but you weren't the one given up your teeth," Valodrael muttered in her head.

"Human teeth don't have that power," Estella replied, a small frown creasing the space between her eyes, "And you did say that you can regrow them."

 "Yes but that is only after you removed them first," Valodrael grumbled, "Did you have to be so rough with those pliers?"

"Oh don't be such a baby," Estella muttered, "And hush now, I need to concentrate." Valodrael subsided as he realized that she had reached the area where the blue prints were laid out on the benches. Estella gazed at them, studying linkages and cam systems.

"Sliding joints," she muttered, "Linkage gear system. How could I apply them? Maybe a locking system for the joints? But if so, how could they release to regain the motion in the joints?" She put a hand to her mouth and moved on to another blue print, trying to trace the flow of steam through the pipe work. "Not enough flex," she muttered, "And I'm not looking at a steam engine any way."

"If you need something you could just ask."

"Eep!" Estella yelped about a foot and spun round, her heart hammering against her ribs. Myslynn stood there watching her.

"Lord Myslynn, I um..." Estella trailed off, worried that Myslynn might be the one in danger without her realizing it as Valodrael rose and snarled, claws at the ready, just below the surface.

"What is it that you are looking for?" Myslynn stepped up and straightened the blue prints, "Because, forgive me my dear, but you aren't going to be able to memorize the entire blue print of Steel Rail to take her back to the world without a roof."

"I..." Estella looked away, "I'm trying to make a new body for Valodrael." She admitted it.

"Make a new body?" Myslynn looked at her. Estella sighed and lifted a new talisman out of her satchel. She scrapped a few more slivers of wood off it and then close her eyes for a moment. After a moment the color rushed through it and the kirin  galloped into the air, whinnying its freedom as the other talisman chorused their welcome to it.

"Talisman wood," Estella explained, "It longs to live and I have the ability to give it the shape it wants to express that life. I asked the tree whether it would be willing to be my friend's new body and I took months to carve it but Val..." She rubbed her eye after a moment, "He's too much of a load for talisman wood, it just burnt through and I couldn't do anything as he screamed and... and... and..." She doubled over.

After a moment Myslynn laid a hand on her shoulder.

"I nearly lost my friend," Estella mumbled, "I nearly lost my friend and I couldn't do anything as he tried and tried to throw himself clear and he..."

"Breath," Myslynn said, "Breath. Like this."  She held up her hand standing up four fingers one after the other as she breathed in, held the breath for a second and then ticked the fingers down again, one after the other, as she breathed out. After a moment, Estella joined in and her color returned to normal as they went to through several cycles.

"So Valodrael needs a stronger power source to take the weight?" Myslynn asked, studying the purple toad, carefully stretching its limbs out and peering at the joints as she flexed its toes. It croaked at her in puzzlement.

"I was hoping that I could find something here," Estella admitted, "Maybe include something of the mechanical but nothing seems like a good fit and I kind of figured that there was no point in asking for the glyph magic you guys use. After the reaction among the Forge Lords when it came out that Nanny Tatters had stolen the glyph magic, it was pretty clear that you'd either say no or you'd have to discuss it for at least a couple of years and," her shoulders slumped, "I don't have a couple of years to wait for that decision."

"Is being Valodrael's host damaging you?" Myslynn frowned.

"No, nothing like that," Estella pursed her mouth, "There is someone waiting for me in the world without a roof and I don't want to be away from them for much longer. I've miss a good few months of... time with them coming on this journey and there's always the risk of something happening to me on these journeys and if I die before we've sorted this problem, Val goes back to being trapped in the sort of pain that would make most people scream themselves hoarse. Or go insane."

"Now that is something I think I can help you with," Myslynn noted. Estella looked round at her.

"Come with me," Myslynn beckoned and lead the way through the foundry, passed where Thorian was helping maneuver a huge piece of cherry red metal towards the quenching tanks. Out the back of the mansion was the training yard where Ulrich had been spending the mornings, or primes, training with the Ash Elves. The Ash Elves were still there, plunking bolts in to targets. Quenril and Tasnar were on one knee while Sabal bowled a disk shaped target across the ground in front of them. Quenril and Tasnar tracked the moving target and squeezed the triggers. The bolts slammed into the target, spinning out its motion and sending it tumbling to the floor. The brothers racked the slides of their weapons and were ready to track the next target as Sabal began the run up to send the next target rolling across the ground.

Off to one side there was a strange contraption. It looked almost like a mast but the upright ended below the spar so the spar rested on a swivel joint. Dangling from the ends of the spar were to lumps of rather battered wood.

"I reckoned that you would prefer the throwing axes," Myslynn held out two small, single bladed axes, about the size of hatchets. Estella picked one up and weighed it in her hands.

"I didn't know your people had axes," she admitted, "After I didn't see any in the fight I assumed you had no use for them."

"Oh we use them," Myslynn put one a padded helmet with a broad nose guard and picked up a pair of the axes herself, "After all the sedum has to be trimmed back some how. Now watch." She stepped forward and swung at the nearest lump of wood. A chunk spat from it and it swung away from her, the opposite end of the spar whipping round, the dangling lump of wood swinging out aggressively. Myslynn batted it away with her other axe. Myslynn battled her wooden enemy for several minutes before stepping back and letting it spin out its energy.

"Nice little work out that," she reached out a hand and stilled the swinging wood as it went passed at a slower pace. She turned to look at Estella. "It's a rough and ready way of learning to fight but I reckoned that with your invisibility trick it will get you up to a fair standard in the time you have, if you are willing to work at it every day."

"But these are throwing axes," Estella queried.

"Still has an edge, doesn't it?" Myslynn replied, "You can still stab someone with a throwing knife and you can start learning to chuck them once you're started building up some muscle. But helmet on first, I want no concussions around here."

Estella smiled and pulled on a helmet. She stepped forward and sized up her wooden sparing partner.

"Think of it as him," Valodrael suggested in her head.

Estella's first strike put lie to her claim that it happened a long time ago, it didn't matter, Valodrael had dealt with the problem, it didn't matter. It most definitely did matter but she missed her third strike and the wooden club punished her with a clout across her upper arm. She very nearly said a extremely rude word she'd picked up on her travels.

"That's the benefit," Myslynn grinned, "You'll learn by your own mistakes, not instruction. You'll either hit with less force or become faster, either way you'll improve, if you are will to put the effort in."

"Oh I'm willing," Estella grated, "Just watch how willing I am." She struck out again. "I'm willing," she grunted, "To dump." She hit again. "All the words." She struck again. "In my head." And again. "That tell me." And again. "That women." She was turning red. "Don't have the right." She ducked under the clout that time. "To protect themselves!" The axe wedged that time and she had a fight to yank it out of the wooden weight.

"One piece of instruction," Myslynn stepped forward, "Widen your stance and remember to move your feet. Now up," She guided Estella's hands, "Down. Up, down, fluid, smooth. Remember you don't have to hit anything vital on the first hit, you can take them apart one piece at a time. Enough cuts will bleed them just as effectively as one big one. Now try again."

Estella was wondering just what she'd let herself in for by the time she entered the mansion late. She'd lost count of the bruises and her arms ached abominably but there was also a sense of achievement she hadn't felt for a while. That and Valodrael was bubbling with pride for her. That was a new feeling, someone else being proud and not ashamed that she had done something girls were not supposed to do. She liked it.

Looking at her reflection in a small oval of polished metal, she smiled at herself.

"I might not be who I was supposed to be," she said out loud, "But I think I like the person I am and who I could become."

"That's the important one," Sinbar waved a finger in an expansive gesture as he lurched down the stairs, eyelids droopy and clinging to the banister with his other hand.

"Siwang Dashi," Estella hyurried forward to help him down the last few steps, "Are you ill?"

"Drunk," Sinbar admitted. Estella sniffed. She couldn't smell any rice wine on his breath.

"Drunk without the drinking," Sinbar clarified, "Drunk on work. Drunk of exhaust..." He yawned that hard Estella swore she heard his jaw joint crack, "Exhaustion."

Estella did a quick mental count in her head.

"You are over the three day limit," she observed wryly.

"Mother..." Sinbar yawned again. "Mother Myslynn dragged me back here yesterday. By my ear." He rubbed the side of his head. "I've slept..." He peered blearily at the clock. "Huh, thirteen hours. Only unlucky for some. Would still be asleep but I'm hungry and I have tried sleeping hungry before and I wind up having the sorts of dreams I really don't want to have. Why people take substances deliberately to see that sort of junk is beyond me." He yawned again.

"Come, Siwang Dashi," Estella smiled, "I think there is hot brown morning potion in the dining room."

"Thank you," Sinbar yawned again, "You are a kind Congming de Nushi, even if you are light fingered."

Estella smiled at that and helped him to a seat at the table. Once he'd managed to drink some of the Hell Grey Tea she'd put in front of him, he seemed to connect with the world more firmly. Estella waited until the cup was nearly empty.

"About my... using some of your materials without permission," Estella broached the subject carefully, "I would like to make some recompense."

"I don't know how you plan to do that," Sinbar noted, "Seeing as dragon's teeth are some what rare."

"Does sir forget that I know dragon?" Estella couldn't help but smile even while she had to push back Valodrael's attempts to come forward and scare the beejeebers out of Sinbar. As it is Sinbar still choked on his mouthful of Hell Grey Tea.

"I... hum... sorry," he spluttered, mopping up the spill with a napkin.

"As such," Estella untied the bag attached to her belt, "Would these be of suitable standard to replace the ones I took?"

She opened the bag on the table top to display the collection of dragon fangs nestled within.

"Just how?" Sinbar leaned close, staring at the treasure.

"Valodrael agreed to help me pay my debt," Estella explained, "I carved the talisman wood to shape and Val donated the teeth."

"If that is what you call it," Valodrael interrupted in her head.

"Hopefully, as it is just the teeth," Estella continued, "The talisman wood should be strong enough to maintain the bound. I'm not sure that they will have the same effect as regular dragon's teeth but they should have an effect, hence why we did more than I took, so you can test them."

Sinbar reached out and took one out of the bag and looked at it, turning it this way and that.

"Oh!" he exclaimed, dropping it on the table but a rope of thick black oil stretched between his palm and the fang. He held his hand up, the rope stretching out longer and thinner.

"Oh no," Estella groaned, "It's failing already! Damn it!" She slammed her hands on the table.

"Uh uh uh," Sinbar held up a finger, "Don't panic just yet." He plopped a tool roll on the table and flipped it open, "There is still a chance I know something that will help." He selected a tool and picked the fang up again, ignoring the oil that squished between his fingers. Tongue between his teeth he began carving a series of runes round the root of the fang. Estella leaned forward, mouth slightly open as she realized that these weren't dwerg glyphs. Sinbar worked, turning the fang slowly in his grip, rune after rune scratched into the surface of the ivory, going over and over them, each time, scratching them a little deeper.

"Do you see it?" she whispered.

"I see it," Valodrael replied. The rope of black gloop was thinning and apparently running backwards, the pool on the table shrinking, traveling back up to whence it came.

"Oh my..."Estella pressed her hands to her mouth, "This could be the answer to our prayers."

"I don't think it will be the whole answer," Sinbar said slowly, making sure he carved the last rune deep enough as the final trickle of oil shifted over his fingers and sank back into the fang, "But I think it could be part of it."

"What do you mean?"Estella asked.

"Looking at this," Sinbar picked up another fang and set to work even as it started liquidating in his hand, "I think you will still need another power source. The dwergs glyphs focus their minds into reality, it is the method they use to make their minds purely manifest, the power is their minds, the glyphs the door way that power enters the world through. My runes pull on the ambient magic that flows through the world all the time." He put the fang down and reached for another one. "The runes can store up a degree of power while my constructs are at rest, hence what I pull on while I am playing the music of motivation but I don't think the usual flow will be enough to power something like Valodrael."

"You don't?" Estella's voice was small as she said it.

"Not for the whole of him," Sinbar frowned. "Here," he turned the first fang he had done round to face her and laid one of his tools beside it, "These are degrading faster than I can do this myself. Have a go, you'll see what I mean."

"You're serious?" Estella asked, "You trust me with your tools?"

"Unless you want your gift to be wasted," Sinbar frowned deeper, "Then I'm going to have to."

Estella picked up the tool and reached for a fang. She winced at the soft mushy texture of it. She could almost feel it rupturing on the cellular level as she looked at the runes on the stabilized fang and dug the tip of the tool into the surface. As she worked, the black ooze running over her fingers, carving each line of the rune into the surface, she clenched the tip of her tongue between her teeth. Without question she turned the fang slightly and started on the next. When she had to turn the original to see the next rune she realized that the flow of ooze was slowing. She started to grin as she worked.

By the time she was reaching for a new fang out of the bag, she was beginning to beam, the confidence in her work growing. It was as she began to do the third that she realized what Sinbar meant. She could feel the flow in the room, a river of light, unseen, unremarked, swirling around her, flowing into the runes under her finger tips like water running down a spout, flowing into a new form, shaped and formed by the runes. She giggled, she couldn't help it. The ooze squelched like mud under her fingers but the river of light tickled as it flowed passed. The talismans suddenly cartwheeled passed her, trilling their joy and Estella saw them as they really were, glowing concentrations of the river, formed from it, a part of it and at the same time apart from it. They were how the river knew itself and knew the world, the river saw through their eyes. How had she never seen this before? Then she put the fang down and as she did so the feel of the river faded away and she realized just how shallow the river was. It was there and it flowed with giggling swiftness but it was shallow, barely deep enough to paddle in. Her face fell.

"I understand," she said, "I understand what you mean. It's not enough." She picked up the last fang and started carving but now the river of light brought sorrow, the knowledge that there wasn't enough there a hard lump in her throat. She put the fang down again, unable to see straight through her tears.

"It's OK, it's OK," Sinbar took the fang from her and quickly finished the runes before setting it aside.

"No it's not," Estella hid her face in her hands, "I nearly killed him the last time I got it wrong. He's my friend, I wouldn't be breathing if it wasn't for him and I nearly killed him because I got it wrong and..."

"Hush, hush," Sinbar hugged her, "I did say that it was part of the solution, not the whole."

"What do you mean?" Estella asked.

"Well, Myslynn did say something about you trying to carve a talisman body for Valodrael but it not working," Sinbar tilted his head, "I'll admit that I wasn't fully with it but I do remember her saying something about loads and power sources. Now, I think the river is too shallow to power him fully but I think the runes would help... smooth the conversion if you can find another power source big enough."

"I'm... still not following," Estella sighed.

"Talisman wood isn't strong enough to take the load when Valodrael tries to use it as his body, right?" Sinbar sat beside her.

"Right," Estella shuddered at the memory.

"So you need to find a heavier duty power source, something with a lot more depth than the ambient river but that is no reason not to use talisman wood as the main frame, the foundation if you like," Sinbar pointed out.

"So carve another body but leave a... cavity?" Estella speculated, "A hollow, where I could fit a different power source."

"And use the runes of Kronzyn as the conversion method to transfer the power from the source to the rest of the body," Sinbar smiled.

"Got it," Estella smiled back, "But does that mean you are willing to teach me these runes of Kronzyn?"

"As much as I can in the time we'll both have," he smiled, "Granted that will be only the basic lexicon so if you will take my advice as your teacher, don't try to reanimate the dead. That is stuff far in advance of what we'll have time for you to learn but the basic containment, preservation and transfer formulas, yeah we should have time for that."

"Afternoons?" Estella asked.

"I should have a couple of hours free," Sinbar smiled, "Want to get started?"

Estella turned, pulled a small book out of her bag and flipped it open. Holding up the pencil she raised her eyebrows.

"Right," Sinbar smiled, settling more comfortably into his chair.

After a while of tracing down the basic runes, Estella frowned.

"How come I can do this?" she asked, "But not the wizard magic I was trying the other night?"

"I wondered when you where going to ask that," Sinbar said, "And I wasn't being metaphorical when I said that you can't draw water from a dry reservoir. A wizard's power in an inborn ability, he is the reservoir from which his power flows, a sorcerer is merely a self taught wizard, someone who had the ability to learn to channel their powers through trial and error, rather than being mentored by an older more experienced wizard."

"So we are something else entirely," Estella observed, "What would our title be? Artificial wizard? False sorcerer?"

"I think I prefer rune weaver," Sinbar noted. Estella thought about it for a while.

"Yes, rune weaver, I like that one," she nodded, "And I certainly like it more than some of the titles that I've been given over the years."

Sinbar looked at her but didn't press it. He looked away, fiddling with the ring on his finger, remembering his own pain. There would be a reason Estella counted an eldritch... something as her friend and if she wished to share she would do. If she did not, then that was her business and not his.

Several days later they had they heads bent over the page as Estella laboriously traced out a series of runes to build a containment spell that would release what it contained at a slow but steady pace. Neither of them noticed Jeremiah lurking by the doorway. The over weight priest scowled. It was galling that Estella seemed to be learning some form of magic while he, Jeremiah, was still struggling to find what he wanted. His eyes wandered to Sinbar. He still didn't trust the little gnome. He couldn't be what he appeared to be. He couldn't be as kind and thoughtful and considerate as he appeared. He was a necromancer for pity's sake, a lord of the dead and undead, nobody with that sort of power would be content with being a servant. No, the little runt must be planning something long term, that could be the only explanation.

Jeremiah snorted and turned away to the library. No, he did not trust the little runt and he certainly wouldn't make himself beholden to him by asking for his help.

With a humph, he plopped down in his usual seat with a collection of books written in the proper language. A few minutes after he had opened the first page Bunrik wandered in and started dusting the bookshelves, again. Jeremiah wondered if the library had ever been this clean before. He frowned over his books for a while.

Bunrik had reached the point where she was polishing the plates of brass that lined the ends of the bookshelves (there apparently to keep down the population of the three point seven bookworms, a voracious eater of paper and wood that could go through a whole shelf in two point six seconds, right up until it run full tilt into the plate of brass, then the last thing to go through its mind was its bottom) when Jeremiah finally spotted something that looked promising. He leaned closer to the book, eyebrows beetling, nose nearly on the page.

He read it through a again and then for a third time to make sure that he had the right idea. Pulling a sheet of paper towards him he started to copy out the spell, muttering it under his breath as he did so. He sat back and began practicing the finger movements. He then copied it out again.

The third time he copied it out he was fairly sure that he had it absolutely right.

Leaving the library, without tidying away the books, he headed up to the room that Myslynn had given him after the sleep time visit of the half dozen vigors. Jeremiah had been hard pressed to not smirk when she had informed him that Bunrik had stated that it had taken three whole cycles for the smell of crisped vigor to properly air out of the room. He had given the apologies that where expected but inside he had been quite pleased with the affair. Just a little bit more suffering in the world for his god to feast upon.

The room he had now had the advantage of not having any windows, which had the added benefit of needing to be light from the inside, which was perfect for what he had in mind. He carefully cleared a space in the middle of the room and spread his notes on the edge of the bed for one more read through. Once he was totally sure that he had the idea, he turned the lamp down to nearly nothing.

Straightening he began to speak the words, twitching and curving his fingers through the air, gathering the power and the approval of his god. With a final flick he completed the spell.

The globe of sunlight lifted from his hand, as bright as a lamp but infinitely more steady and with the added benefit of not being tied to a fuel source. Jeremiah smiled and let it fade out. After a moment he started the spell again, this time closing his eyes long before he finished weaving it. Even then the glare through his eyelids left purple splotches dancing in his vision, the flaring power of the sun bursting into being inside his room. For a second he felt his skin start to sizzle and then he cancelled the spell. That was exactly what he wanted. For any normal foe it would be disorientating and dazzling, for something of the undead nature it would be deadly, the searing power of the sun dropped in at close range.

Jeremiah grinned as he thought of the perfect battle cry for this one. After all, the orc crossbreed had his yell of 'it's Thorian time' , why shouldn't he have something more dignified? Something like 'bucket of sunlight'. It would add to the confusion his foes would feel, just before he let their doom come and claim them. Maybe all the time in the library had been worth something.

Calling up the little light globe, Jeremiah lodge back on the bed and pulled out his trio of books. Now that he had gleaned something from the stumps he would spend some concentrated time with the words of his god. After all, it would not be a clever thing to neglect his priestly duties.

Thus two weeks passed away for the King's Special, each finding things that filled their time and in some cases added to their resume of skills. Still, some of them found themselves fretting in the spare moments that they had. Kaelin found it the hardest, with Charlotte giving her regular updates from the surface. The knowledge that they knew how the werewolves were mutating was cold comfort when they could do absolutely nothing about it. The only comfort was that it did seem like they had cut the flow of serum off at the source as no farther attacks on guard houses were reported. That meant that this would become a war of attrition and the people just had to hold. They just had to hold the line, just for long enough. That or someone needed to take out the old wolf. If the center could not hold then things would fall apart. It was just a question of whether or not the old wolf could be found. Kaelin had to fight the urge to curl up and shiver whenever she thought about it.

Finally, things changed. It did not start auspiciously.

Kaelin had come down early that morning, bothered out of sleep by bad memories and uncomfortable dreams of Greely's interest in her and as such was sat drooping over an extra large mug of Hell Grey Tea when Ulrich bounced in, full of his usual vim and vigor, puffing on his pipe.

"Good morning, my dear," he grinned, "Ready for grand adventures and daring do?" He mimed fencing with his sword.

Kaelin looked up at him with flat dislike and then lifted her lip on one side to growl at him.

"Now, now my dear, there is no need to be so unpleasant," Ulrich smiled but puffing pipe smoke in her face with each word.

Kaelin coughed and squinted at him, the dislike growing.

"If you don't put that out in the next three seconds..." the growl rumbled through her voice and her bones began to creak.

"Now let's not be unpleasant," Ulrich stepped back and turned away to tap his pipe out into what Kaelin suspected was Jeremiah's cup. That action did induce her to forgive Ulrich, just a little, even as he sat opposite to her. Still he didn't deserve to get off scott free. After a moment, she pulled some of the food towards her and laid into it with an abandon she hadn't fully used since the early days of the King's Special. It was full on Kaelin spray and pray special.

After a while Ulrich got up and moved further down the table.

"Who's the big bad wolf," he muttered.

Thankfully Kaelin had just about finished by the time Jeremiah and Estella had wandered. Thorian had not been put off by Kaelin's eating habits. Jeremiah frowned at the state of the table but made no comment, sat down and poured himself a cup of tea. Kaelin glanced at Ulrich but said not a thing. It had been the cup where the ash had gone.

Estella started clearing up the mess without a word.

"Er," Thorian frowned, "Why are you doing that?"

Estella stopped and thought about it. Then she let out a small laugh.

"I'm sorry," she said, "It is just a couple of my brothers always made a mess like this and it was my job to clean it up. I guess it is just a habit to tidy a mess table on sight. I suppose part of my brain is still afraid that my father will see it and, well, not be pleased."

She looked a way and rubbed her ribs a moment, then flicked the last of the mess into a napkin and rolled it up, only putting it to one side before sitting down and helping herself to her breakfast.

"Well I have good news and better news," Myslynn joined them.

"You have managed to source a new brand of tea?" Jeremiah pushed away his cup, "I am sorry, my good host, but this mornings offering is really rather off."

Myslynn frown, poured herself a cup and tasted it.

"There doesn't seem to be anything wrong to me," she frowned some more.

Kaelin and Ulrich glanced at each other again and then Kaelin turned her faces away, biting her lip not to laugh. Jeremiah glared at them with suspicion.

"Let me try something," he said, reaching across the table and snagging Thorian's unused cup. He poured himself out an new cup.

"Ah," he noted, "Apologies, Forge Lord Myslynn, it was a case of needing a clean cup." This time Kaelin didn't dare look at Ulrich for fear she would bust a stitch laughing. OK, perhaps this time she could forgive Ulrich for his over abundance of energy in the morning.

Myslynn frowned as she caught the undercurrents moving round the time but then she shook it off.

"The good news is that the tannery has reported that the dragon hide armor is complete and ready to collect," she stated and then had to wait will Thorian whooped and the others made exclamations of delight. "Therefore, after breakfast, we will head down there for you to have your fittings done."

"Cool," Thorian beamed, "After we been there, can we go to Sinbar's place, he did offer to add some extra protection to our new stuff for us when I popped in when we were being measured up, though I hope his work shop doesn't sink as bad as it did last time, last time was gross."

"Oh," Myslynn raised an eyebrow, realizing that someone had been wandering when he shouldn't have been. Jeremiah also frowned. The others could trust that little runt to do his alterations to their gear but he would not. There was no way he was letting that little necromancer to get his hooks into him, the great and powerful Jeremiah.

"And the better news?" Jeremiah asked.

"The Council of Twelve has decided that you may leave our realm and return to the world without a roof," Myslynn informed them, "Arrangements are being made for you to take a locomotive tomorrow morning to the edge of our realm. From there you will have to rely on your wits, your guides and your luck to reach the world without a roof." She looked at Kaelin. "Personally, I hope that what ever comes your way you can deal with it. All of you." She looked at Estella, who looked back with the dark that was Valodrael filling her left eye. They inclined their head to Myslynn. Not much more breakfast was eaten as the excitement of seeing their new gear over rode any lingering hunger.

 Jeremiah walked along at the back of the group in dignified silence as the others chatter one before him. He would show them how an educated man was supposed to deport himself. That was a stance that he found harder and harder to maintain as they approached the leather works. They may not use urine in their process but it still utterly stunk. He was quietly relieved when they gained the inside of the front of shop and some of the smell was locked outside. Part of him swore that smell had a life of its own and it was determined to follow them in.

"If you would follow me," Drongar said after the greetings had been done and led them into the fitting room. A set of manikins had been set up along the back walk, covered by sheets. Striding to the first one, Drongar whipped off the cover.

"Oh my..." Thorian wowed. The armor had been made from the thickest, largest scales that Nanny Tatters had possessed, the heavy leather tooled and shaped to not only stop the force of an enemies blows but also guide them away from the weaker joints. Tanned to a deep russet brown, freckled with the paler patches that Nanny Tatters had possessed in life, the armor ran up from a set of hobnailed boots that looked like they could march half way across the world, riveted and layered up to produce both flexibility and protection, its shape both built of an orc crossbreed but also hinting at its draconnic origins. Hung on a hook on the belt the dragon tail whip was coiled in tight loops, its length made of braided hide and the tip loaded with the bone vertebra of its original support.

"I like!" Thorian grinned.

"If sir will step this way," Drongar gestured and Thorian stepped into the dressing area. Ulrich whistled when Thorian stepped back out.

"Looking good," he agreed and he wasn't lying. Even Kaelin had to admit that Thorian looked pretty impress in his new gear. Jeremiah snorted and looked away, until Drongar whipped aside the next cover.

"Oh," Jeremiah tugged his beard, "Well, I must say that you have... I am... I like what I see." He had to admit it. Made from the softer, more flexible leather of the underbelly, the robes where pale and pliable, suitably wide at the sleeve to provide the proper flare and over lapping at the front with a broad belt with a buckle worked with designs of dragons. It was close enough to be suitable.

"If sir would like to see," Drongar stepped up and then slipped his hand into the top of the robes, all the way up the the elbow. Jeremiah frowned. "It is a double layer above the waist so that the entire top of the garment is a hidden pocket that goes all the way round to the other side, allowing sir to carry as many books and spell components at sir wishes. Our advice though is to make sure any components are either properly stoppered or wrapped to prevent spoilage of the inner layers of the hide, as that might lead to corrosion ."

"You will be pleases to note that I need no such baubles," Jeremiah interrupted, "My god powers my art and his books are all I need."

"Then if Sir would step this way," Drongar waved towards the dressing area.

"Not... bad," Ulrich admitted. Kaelin managed to keep her face straight. It was very true that the dragon scale robes were very impressive but they also showed Jeremiah's equator off to great effect and had obviously been worked with the idea that further expansion maybe necessary. Though she did have to admit that, despite the last few weeks of more eating and less walking Jeremiah was thinner than he had been when they had started this journey.

"I must say that I particularly like cuffs," Jeremiah noted, looking at the tooling work on the turned back cuffs, "And this pocket idea is actually rather brilliant. I did always wonder if the weight of my collection was pulling my old robes out of shape. Yes, my dear, is there an issue?"

"Just dust," Kaelin replied.

"Perhaps you should see a healer about that issue," Jeremiah noted and then turned back to admiring himself in the mirror. "Yes, I like. I'm wearing white and I can cast light, hum, the possibilities are intriguing."

Kaelin turned her face to the wall to not snigger.

"Yes, I'm pretty," Jeremiah struck a pose, "And witty. And pretty witty."

Somehow, despite the provocation, Kaelin managed to keep her poker face.

The next mannequin was uncovered and Ulrich whistled, looking the dyed black trench coat up and down. Made of heavier hide than Jeremiah's robes but not the ultra heavy stuff of Thorian's armor, it was a combination of the coats worn by the Ash Elves and human design, with multiply buckles up the front so that Ulrich could adjust it for both riding and walking. Drongar turned back the flared hem to reveal a strap and buckle arrangement that would hold the coat to Ulrich's thigh, even when riding and in windy weather, to ensure continuation of protection and no flapping of the storm shield, the buckle resting on the front of his leg to avoid chaffing even through the dragon hide trousers that completed the ensemble.

"Turn up to your father's estate like that and he might have an apoplexy," Kaelin noted as Ulrich strode out of the dressing area.

"Oh yes," Ulrich agreed, "Especially if..." He snagged a broad brimmed black leather hat off a stand. "What do you think? Hang on, why is this done to my size?"

Drongar bowed.

"A craftsman always tries to anticipate the needs of his customers. Here, I made these for yourselves, good sirs." He handed three more hats to Quenril and his companions. "I am told that the light of the world without a roof is harsh on your eyes, the brims will help control how badly it burns."

Quenril and the other Ash Elves seemed nonplussed but tried the hats on any way. Estella applauded. They did look rather dashing in a way, especially as the hats had been dyed to the match the dark blue grey the Ash Elves favored. They certainly matched Ulrich and he enjoyed the thought of how his father would react if he turned up at his door with his Ash Elf companions in tow. Seeing as Quenril would probably react with aggression if the old man insulted his sister's chosen, Ulrich was very tempered to make sure they took a detour that way.

"We thank you, good sir," Quenril bowed his head.

Kaelin's outfit was multiply layers of flared hem, receding in length, light and flexible but strong with soft boots. The fitting was loose and the neck line large, allowing her to wear her hooded jerkin underneath with comfort and utility as she could still put the hood up to go invisible and it would allow room for the shift when she had to bring her fangs into play. With the loose sleeves for ease of movement and hidden weapons, Kaelin liked it almost at once and said so, which was unusual for her.

"Lord Myslynn made us aware of the trials you are facing with your family," Drongar bowed, "After the pain these 'werewolves' have caused our people it seemed only right to give you all the aid that we could."

Kaelin thought about it for a moment, remembering what she had felt during the time she and Estella had spent together. Estella had spoken of her wish to bring an end to the pain that had been handed down generation after generation. It had occurred to Kaelin that she could maybe do the same for her own pack. Was she the only one who had wanted to leave? And what of all the Ash Elves that had been forced into joining the pack? How many of them where fighting the control her grandfather exercised over the pack? How many of them would follow the 'code of the wild' her grandfather preached if she took out the old wolf?

"Quenril?" she asked, "If we give your people a chance to come home, to the clan, would you let them?"

"I do not understand?" Quenril admitted, frowning at her from under his new hat.

"If we... if I take my grandfather out of the picture," Kaelin clarified, "If I break the control he has over their minds now that they are infected with the Pack's taint, would they be allowed to come home? As they are, if I can teach them how to control the wolf, would they be allowed to come home?"

Quenril looked away for a while.

"They would not be welcome in the Underworld, the land of our birth," he admitted, "They would never be thought of as true people any more but we are no longer a true clan any more. There are too few of us to breed, we will have to offer ourselves to the women of other... peoples to continue our bloodlines. As such, it would be Lady Zilrva's final say but... there is the possibility."

"What are you thinking of, my dear?" Jeremiah asked, "Wondering what Ash Elf... Shifters, such as yourself would look like?"

"They would look like Ash Elves," Kaelin stated, managing to not rise to the bait, "Until they chose not too. Who knows they might be better at it than I am."

Jeremiah grumped, knowing when he'd been outplayed.

The last outfit was Estella's, a pale brown affair of a simple cut coat and wide legged trousers, that looked under done until Estella tried several moves that when either dance moves or a fluid method of fighting that none of them had seen before. It moved flawlessly, without hitch or snag to arrest her motions and Kaelin realized that the belt wasn't buckled, it was tied in a fashion that made it very easy to release if Estella needed to grab something concealed under her coat to make someones life very unpleasant. Kaelin narrowed her eyes. There was something else about Estella that she hadn't seen before, the young women had definitely toned up in the last couple of weeks. She had mentioned something to Kaelin about training so it looked like she had been serious about whatever training that was.

"You have worked a marvel, good sir Drongar," Estella bowed to the craftsman, "I did not expect the native clothing of my homeland to be replicated so well in this material."

"Your drawings were detailed and I thank you for the permission to use the designs in future," Drongar bowed back, "It will be interesting to find out if such less-formal wear will have a market here."

"Planning your own seeds of disruption Drongar?" Myslynn raised her eyebrows.

"The market is slow and stagnant," Drongar replied, "That is neither good for my business nor for our ability to think. The ancestors told us to always think, they did not tell us to always think of them."

"Good man," Myslynn clapped his shoulder and handed over a fairly large bag that clinked.

"Oh I have something for you too, Lord Myslynn," Drongar informed her and picked up a package. Unrolling it, he revealed a beautiful pair of gloves, worked in tooled dragon skin.

Myslynn's expression was beatified as she pulled them on and flexed them.

"These will be worn to the Council of Twelve," she promised.

Leaving the leather works they walked to a building further down the street, Thorian leading the way inside.

"Hello!" he boomed and then sniffed. "Doesn't smell so bad in here today." He looked at the large vats at the end of the room but their surfaces were still, the opaque fluid within them undisturbed.

"That part of my job has been completed," Sinbar called from a door directly across from the entrance, his smiling face visible as he was not wearing the goggles and mouth guard, "Come on in, come on in. I was hoping you were going to come down. I haven't had the chance to use these machines for quite a while and I've been looking forward to this challenge."

The King's Special and Myslynn trooped across the hall to the door Sinbar was holding open, having to duck through the frame. In the room beyond several tables stood with the laid out skeletons of werewolves on their tops. The bones were black.

"My good sir," Ulrich asked, picking up a humorous, "Just what is it that you do to them to turn them black?"

"Oh that would be the resin," Sinbar waved a hand.

"The resin?" Ulrich frowned.

"Of course," Sinbar smiled, "Stripping down the body with acid and then solution of natron makes the bones brittle so to restrengthen them I soak them for forty eight hours in a resin. It penetrates deep into the bones and then sets, restrengthening them and making them able to bare weight. Now what you are after is my skill with the rune ribbons."

"Rune ribbons?" Jeremiah sounded like he was chewing on a lemon or two. Sinbar lead the way over to his work bench. On it coils of silver ribbon laid with several tools laying within easy reach and a strange device clamped to the edge of the table.

"Usually I just use the runes for motion and empowerment to active the skeletons," Sinbar admitted, "So this has been a treat to work on something a little more advanced."

"So what are these rune ribbons?" Ulrich asked, peering closely at the lengths of unrolled silver ribbon on the bench.

"They take the runes that I need," Sinbar explained, "Once the bones are resin soaked they become resistant to being carved but before they are resin soaked they are too brittle to take the runes. The compromise is to press the runes into strips of silver ribbon."

"And then you wrap the bones in the ribbons," Ulrich nodded, "So it is not just an ascetics choice but has a practical use."

"Even the silver skulls are of a practical nature," Sinbar admitted, "The dwergs revere the skull as the seat of the soul."

"That's right," Thorian beamed, "You were telling me the other day that they carve their family's story on the skull after someone is all deaded. Er, wait, wouldn't they crumble if you did that?"

"You picked that up quick," Sinbar nodded, "And the truth is that I use a different agent to restrengthen the skulls after I have prepared them. It is more expensive than the resin, hence why I save it for the skulls. I then replace them with the silver similes as it just doesn't look right to have a headless servant."

"So it is not all practical choice then, is it?" Jeremiah was snide. Sinbar looked at him but looked away without speaking.

"Now for your new finery," Sinbar continued as if he hadn't been interrupted, "I figured that the runes of sanctuary would be a good place to start for all of you."

"And what is that supposed to do?" Jeremiah asked. Sinbar glanced at him again, disturbed by his tone but trying to shrug it off.

"The runes of sanctuary protect you from undead creatures," Sinbar turned to the others, "Any undead creature, even your own creations, if you are that way inclined. Zombies, ghouls, even vampires, will have to fight their instinct to cower and flee from you while you are wearing the runes of sanctuary."

"Now that sounds useful," Ulrich admitted.

"Does it work on werewolves?" Kaelin asked.

"Unfortunately, I don't think so," Sinbar admitted, "Although." He picked up one of the pre-marked ribbons and popped it in her hand. Kaelin sniffed and then sneezed, a look of disgusted crossing her face.

"That feels like its squirming," she stood it for about a minute and the put it down on the table, shaking her hand and rubbing the palm. "Felt like I was holding maggots."

"It does work then," Sinbar smiled, "I'd never had the chance to test it before. Hopefully that will give you an edge, although, how do you feel now?"

"Better," Kaelin admitted, "I think it is contact activated."

"Well that's a relief," Sinbar smiled, "Or it would have been pointless to give sanctuary runes to any of you. Now then we take this and put it in here." He picked up the ribbon of silver and attached it by both ends into the strange device and then started to slowly turn the handle. The ribbon started to spiral, slowly tighter and tighter until it folded over entirely, the device gradually lengthening to keep it stretched out and straight until it had gone from being a ribbon to being a thread of silver. Letting it out of the device, Sinbar threaded it into a needle and then asked Thorian to stand by a stood. Hopping up on the stool Sinbar started to carefully stitch the silver thread through the stitch holes of the thread already worked into Thorian's armor, edging part of one of the shoulder pauldron with a line of silver.

"There, that is good work even if I do say so myself," Sinbar nodded and remembered to step off the stool rather than fall off the back of it. He turned to the bench and turned then next prepared ribbon into thread, "Who's next?"

Estella watched him with interest when it was her turn and it suddenly occurred to Sinbar that he hadn't thought of what effect it would have on Valodrael.

"He isn't picking up anything off it," Estella listened to a voice only she could hear for a moment, "He did wonder but it appears that some of the Domilii's experiments must have been successful. Valodrael is body-less, not undead. It narrows down some possibilities." Sinbar looked at her and then nodded.

Eventually all of them had their sanctuary runes stitched in place, except Jeremiah.

"I do apologize if I have wasted your time," he said unctuously, "But my god's favor is all the protect I need." Sinbar gave him a long look.

"I suppose that makes sense," the gnome admitted, "Left all, sanctuary does affect all undead so it would make controlling your own minions a little difficult."

"Indeed," Jeremiah noted and there was a long moment before Sinbar turned away, during which the rest of the King's Special exchanged worried glances.

"Now then," Sinbar managed to smile, "Would any of the rest of you like something personal?"

"Personal?" Thorian asked.

"Something special, customized, just for you," Sinbar explained.

"Can I have something to up the toughness on this?" Ulrich asked, lifting his arm, "Don't get me wrong, I absolutely love it but it is less tough than Thorian's gear and I am often at the front of the fight as well, so is there anything that could give me an edge?"

"Runes of protection coming right up," Sinbar slid the stool across the floor, sat down and pulled a coil of ribbon towards him. Picking up a tool, he started carefully pressing the shape of the runes into the silver. Cutting it off once he was done he soon had the thread ready, stitching it into Ulrich's coat on the other side to make it symmetrical.

"Protection would be a good one for me as well," Estella stepped up, "I need all the help I can get."

"What is the matter my dear?" Jeremiah asked, "Worried your protector is going to abandon you?" Estella just looked at him, the dark sloshing in the bottom of her left eye. After a while he looked away, hiding his shiver.

The silver work was beautifully done and Sinbar was deft with his needle, not wasting a stitch. Watching him work, Kaelin had been stroking Haggis' now furry windbag.

"I think I would like something to add that... something extra to my performances," she said, "I am self taught so, again, anything to help."

"Know just the thing," Sinbar grinned, "The artist's flare! That is one of my favorites." He positively bounced as he sat back down and set to work, pressing the runes into the silver.

Finally he turned to Thorian.

"Er, I think I'd like something that would help me feel not so sick after we've had a fight," Thorian shrugged, "I like the fights but sometimes I feel right sick afterwards."

"Relief," Sinbar nodded, "It won't heal wounds but it will help wash the exhaustion from your muscles and keep your head clear."

"That would be good," Thorian nodded and Sinbar set to work.

It was a good dinner they shared with Myslynn that evening and all of them sort their beds early, Kaelin going up last. Looking back at the withdrawing room, at the comfortable chairs and the fire burning in the grate, she sighed.

"I was happy here," she said to no one at all, "I was happy here." She turned away before she could give in to the sorrow of knowing that they would probably never return to the realm of the dwergs and Myslynn's people. For the first time in her life, Kaelin realized that she would miss them.

Earlier next prime, Ulrich headed out to the apprentice shed to collect Marmaduke.

"By the Lord Harry," he exclaimed, gazing at the last adjustments Handrun had made over night, "I think you have perfected him!"

"I couldn't resist," Handrun beamed, "Had to work all through the sleep cycle, so please don't tell Lord Myslynn but he's as good as he's going to get. Kind of wish I'd thought of those last tweaks before he was assessed but never mind."

"He was assessed?" Ulrich raised his eyebrows, "Does that mean?"

"I passed!" Handrun punched the air, "I passed! I have my apprenticeship spot! I'm going to learn here for a while, get a feel for the live steam but then I'll be heading to Farronfore to study under Master Tordor Steelpass."

"Oh well done!" Ulrich shook his hand enthusiastically, "I thought you could do it."

"It's thanks to you," Handrun admitted, "If you hadn't given me that push to speak to Lord Myslynn that day, well, I don't think I would ever have had the chance." He grinned.

"Always glad to help someone get their foot in the door," Ulrich smiled, "You go get them, you go get those dreams."

"Oh I will," Handrun smiled, "I will. That Sinbar had better watch out or I'll corner the market on enhanced help."

Heading back inside through the front door later, Ulrich found that not only had Myslynn laid out breakfast but she had also made sure that their packs were refilled. Walking down to the station, they found quite the crowd had gathered to see them off.

"Are you not going to wave my dear?" Jeremiah asked Kaelin as they stepped passed the cheering masses. She sighed and rolled her eyes but then lifted her hand and waved slowly. Handrun was definitely walking several inches taller as some of the crowd passed comments about Marmaduke's gleaming form. Once the baggage was stowed, Peter, Nanny Tatters and the vigor loaded into the animal wagon and last handshakes done all round, the King's Special and their allies loaded on to the train, taking up two compartments again, this time four to each one. Kaelin found herself watching Myslynn, Sinbar and Handrun disappear into the distance long after she would have normally looked away.

"Something troubling you, my dear?" Jeremiah asked, his oily grin hiding behind his beard.

"No, nothing that can be changed," Kaelin admitted, "We have a job to do, time to get on and do it."

"Still it can't be easy," Jeremiah sounded like he was being kind, "Knowing that said job is going out to hunt down and kill your own family."

"My family? Ha!" Kaelin barked a laugh at that, "That so called family is a bunch of mongrel mutts that I was well shot of. I was glad when I left. No, I don't care about that family, if you can call it that. The people I'm more concerned for are the people they will have been hurting while we've been away. We've been down here three weeks, that will have given that curd the time he needs to esculate this way beyond what we originally faced."

"At least we cut off the supply of stuff he was using to change the werewolves," Ulrich noted, "That has to count for something. Yes he can still make regular ones but it should mean that they are back to being dominated by the phases of the moon and he should only have a limited number of those freaky beasts at his desposable. That might make him more cautious about who he throws at what."

"Don't count on it," Kaelin grunted, "He was never one for stategic thinking, not on that level. All that matters to him is the hunt here, now, the prey that is before him and just how to thoroughly terrorize it before they move in for the kill."

"Wonderful sounding chap," Ulrich noted, "So when do we get to meet him?"

"Hopefully in the next two to three weeks," Kaelin noted, "I am running on a time limit here."

"Oh yes," Ulrich nodded, "The forefeit. Did you know about what that meant when you made that deal?"

"I didn't exactly make a deal," Kaelin admitted, "Your Ash Elf friends where some what upset when I told them why there were so many of the bodies missing at the citadel, that Grandfather will have taken the older children and the maidens for the pack. I figured that they were digging to kill me right there and then so I told them that I utterly hate the old wolf's guts and that I would quite happily kill him is given the chance. They gave me a month to make good on that promise or, yes, someone is going to have a Kaelin skin rug for their floor."

"You what?" Thorian demanded.

"The forefeit is just that," Ulrich explained, "You renegade on a deal with the Ash Elves, you break a trust and you leave yourself open for the slightest inch of reprisal, then they will take your skin off, the same way they did with Nanny Tatters."

"They try it with Kaelin and they'll answer to me," Thorian swore.

"Better than threatening our allies," Ulrich tempered, "Would be to take out the cause of all this hassle and put Kaelin's old man in his grave. If she doesn't mind."

"Course not," Kaelin replied, "The sooner that he's dealt with the better as far as I'm concerned. In fact, if we pull it off, I might ask our Ash Elf friends to skin him for me. In fact, that's an idea." She grinned and something about it reminded Ulrich of Estella's face when Valodrael was riding in dual control. "What if I take his hamstring out and then offer him up to our allies, let him pay the forefeit for me? I wouldn't mind a wolf skin rug for my floor."

"That is totally cold," Ulrich shuddered, "But also very fitting."

"I'm sure that I can help you, my dear," Jeremiah smiled.

"How so?" Kaelin narrowed her eyes at him.

"Well I'm sure that if I put in a good word with my god for you I'm sure he would help you out in more direct ways," Jeremiah offered.

"Oh yeah," Kaelin folded her arms as she drawled, "And only at the cost of my soul, or maybe something worse, like, turning me into your slave for the rest of my life. You'd like that wouldn't you? Having me begging on my knees for what ever mercy you chose to give. Well guess what mister? I've already lived that life and there is no way I'm going back to it ever again."

Ulrich tensed, wondering if things were about to turn ugly but instead of becoming angry Jeremiah sat back and smiled.

"If you are sure, my dear, for now," he turned his head and looked out of the window, apparently totally at ease with Kaelin's rejection but somehow Ulrich was sure that it wasn't the end of the issue.

Outside the window the cityscape of Endingborough rolled away and Ulrich realized that they were taking a different route out of the city than the one they had come in by, the rich mansion area rapidly giving way to more modest accommodations, although still fairly up market. Even a clerk in such prestigious places as the Lore houses would be making a fair bundle at the end of the day. The rows of such houses, standing two by two, skimmed passed and then, with a fair well whistle the train plunged into a tunnel and the darkness closed over the outside of the window.

The day rolled passed in such a manner, the cavern settlements blurring passed the window, through this route seemed to be more agriculture than heavy industry and as the time passed, they became aware that the train had slowed slightly and the rhythm had changed, going at a lower rate but with a deeper note, the locomotive taking more strain as they journeyed on. The stops at the stations took longer to recover from and became further apart.

"We're heading uphill," Thorian noted, laying another counter down on the seat between him and Kaelin, "Three."

Kaelin looked over the counters in her hand, the chips of talisman wood shifting in her grasp.

"Well Myslynn did say that they would take us to the edge of the dwerg's realm," she noted, "I guess that would mean that we have to head up towards the surface. Just a shame that we have to go through the Ash Elf's realm before we get their." She laid down a five. "Eight." She noted. Thorian frowned working it out.

"I wouldn't let them hear you say that," Ulrich noted, looking up from where he was reading Governor Risgath's tome about the Ash Elves, comparing it with what Quenril and the others had been telling him in the last few days. Part of him wondered how Risgath was going to react to having his sister and what was left of her people turn up on his doorstep. Part of him wondered if they were even going to be let into Nether Wallop, although if she had taken his suggestion and helped the craftsmen back there without chains then hopefully that had been seen as a good will offering.

"Ten to me," Thorian interrupted, putting down a two and gathering the counters.

"Well done," Kaelin noted to Thorian and then answered Ulrich, "Still true though, I'm not expecting a fun trip through that area of the Underworld."

"Can't argue with you there," Ulrich agreed, going back to his book. Jeremiah snored in the corner, having dozed off some hours before.

There had been several hours without a stop when the noise of the train changed and the rate of speed obviously changed. Jeremiah jerked and sniffed as he woke up.

"Is something wrong?" he asked after a moment.

"Thin we've there, old bean," Ulrich noted, packing away his book. Kaelin handed back her gaming chips and Thorian swept them back into his bag, standing up to tighten the buckles of his new armor back down.

As the train slid into the station, Ulrich frowned. The platform was bare to the extreme, even less than what had been at Bearington and the other stops they had passed along the way. Those stops had at least had a ticket office and something that looked something like amenities for the passengers. This was just a bare slab of worked stone, situated so that people could dismount from the train with something resembling ease but beyond that...

"Did we request the wrong stop?" Ulrich muttered.

"What?" Thorian looked round.

"Nothing," Ulrich reassured but he didn't stop frowning as they stepped down on the naked platform, Estella and the Ash Elves stepping from the other compartment. Thorian started stretching out, working out all the kinks that sitting still for so long had put in his back. There was an almighty clang from the animal wagon as the undead vigor, Karma, stumbled as it stepped on to the platform and dropped Jeremiah's pack.

"Clumsy idiot!" Jeremiah bellowed, storming down the platform, tearing strips off his minion, "Lack witted, moronic, toffee brained bumble weed!"

Ulrich rolled his eyes at the display and whistled. Peter came scrabbling from the animal and rippled up to him. With practiced ease Ulrich sat down on to his back and held on as they rippled to the baggage van.

"Marmaduke, to my side," Ulrich called after sliding the door of the wagon open. With a cuffing the locomotive pulled free of the train and the guard set to work on the points. Ulrich frowned some more. The dwergs were working with haste, something that he had not seen around the locomotives. Usually the dwergs were hyper attentive around their steaming, hissing charges but now they were definitely rushing. He turned Peter and Marmaduke stomped beside him as they made their way back along the platform, passed where Jeremiah was still working off his frustration by insulting Karma's work.

"Something's wrong here," Ulrich whispered to Kaelin.

"You see it too," she noted, looking out at the abandoned area beyond the train station. Without a further word they headed down the sloped end of the platform.

It looked like a market, only without the market. Stone slabs carved out of single blocks of stone, stood on pillar like legs, lined up in rows, ready for merchants and traders to display their wears and barter for goods, only there were no traders and no merchants. Kaelin ran her fingers over the top of one of the slabs, rubbing the thick layer of dust her fingers picked up. Ulrich wandered up and down the rows, flanked by the Ash Elves, eyes scanning the ground for litter. Estella wandered around, one hand tucked into her coat, gripping something concealed there, feet scuffing up the layer of dirt on the ground. In the back ground the train traveled the run round loop with indecent haste.

"It's been abandoned for a while," Kaelin reported when they met up after they survey of the arrive, "I'm picking up more smell of dwerg than Ash Elf but even that is old."

"We found more litter of dwerg than Ash Elf," Ulrich revealed.

"My guess would be that the dwergs meet the Ash Elveshere at certain times of year," Estella said, adjusting her pack, "The dwergs came one time and the Ash Elves did a no show. The dwergs came a couple of times more but again the Ash Elves did a no show so dwergs gave up. It would explain a couple of the reports I got a peep at on Myslynn's desk, something about market upsets."

"Marmaduke," Ulrich muttered, "Stay focused, stay close, something is wrong about this."

"What's up?" Thorian came striding over at last.

"We're pretty sure that this trade head has been abandoned," Kaelin said, "But we're not sure why."

Thorian frowned and looked around. After a moment he went and pocked about near the broad tunnel that was the only exit from this place. Straightening he came back, loosening his broad sword in its scabbard as he did so.

"It's not been a fight," he shook his head, "Not that sort of mess. Some little scuffles but they're more like fisty cuffs, not a nice big fight."

"Well what are we all doing standing around like stuffed mushrooms?" Jeremiah came waddling up, "The train is just about to leave and the dwergs seem to be in something of a hurry. Are we getting back on the train or are we going on?" Behind him, Karma shuffled along, Nanny Tatters plodding along a pace further back.

"Just wondering why the trading post seems to have been unused for so long," Ulrich noted, "Anything you can think of, good chaps?" Quenril, Tasnar and Sabal looked at each other, conferring in that wordless way of theirs.

"This is Spider Clan territory," Quenril admitted at last, "They are a large Clan, strong, with many warriors and women aplenty. They even have some of the disgraced among their ranks."

"I heard that some of their women who can't breed volunteer to become disgraced," Sabal muttered, "So they can guard the ways to their fortress more effectively."

"That is an old dubbins tale and you know it!" Tasnar snapped but there was something about the way he was flicking his knife round his fingers that said that he feared the topic they were on.

"The disgraced?" Ulrich asked, "I'm afraid I don't..."

"Let me guess," Kaelin interrupted, "They still look like Ash Elf women from the waist up but below the waist they have become great, big, hulking spiders?"

Quenril looked at her, mouth working, then he nodded and shuddered.

"Whelp, we've meet one of them before," Kaelin unfolded her arms and headed towards the tunnel, "We aren't going to make it back to Lady Silvra standing here gassing all day. Best we get going."

With a shrug Thorian and Estella followed her.

"Just quick," Ulrich leaned towards Quenril, "Can you think of a reason why the Spider Clan would break off the trade networks?"

Quenril shook his head.

"They are a large clan, strong," he repeated, "They would not willingly give up the trading rights, not when it was what put them on an equal footing with the Snake Clan."

"Oh bother," Ulrich muttered, "I can guess what has happened then and what we are walking into. Oh well, let's get to it. This place is too open any way."

As they stepped into the tunnel behind the others, the train let out one final whistle and started out of the station, back the way they came, to the evident relief of the crew.

Soon enough the gloom of the tunnels of the Underworld closed in around them again, coldly familiar from their earlier travels in this underground world.

"Gerald," Jeremiah snapped, "Light!" With a buzzing chatter, the giant moth began to pulse with a blue glow that gradually bloomed until it shone over the rough walls around them. Kaelin nodded but kept a light stick close to hand.

They plodded on through the dark, the tunnel narrowing slightly and widening out at uneven distances. There was still no sign of the Ash Elf clan that should have called this territory home and the occasional kervead that scuttled across their path seemed all the more ominous for that reason. They kept looking for a sentry, a giant spider, something that would break the monotony of the Underworld. After the hustle and bustle of the realm of the dwergs, the stillness of the land of the Ash Elves seemed even more oppressive than ever. Even Quenril and his relatives seemed on edge, waiting for the weight to drop, waiting for the challenge for invading the territory of another clan without permission.

When they found the grove of lashers that had been destroyed, felled like trees and left to rot, their hard shells hollowed out by kerveads, they all paused. In the end, nobody said anything, there was nothing to say, why state what was blindly obvious and that they all knew? There was something unnatural down here in the Underworld and it left destruction in its wake. Kaelin unslung Haggis and made sure that his blow stick was ready. She glanced at Estella as the young lady lifted one of the things that had been concealed inside her new coat into the light, revealing it to be a small hand axe. Kaelin frowned. When did Estella pick that up?

They moved on.

It was sheer dull, brainless sameness. The tunnel twisted and turned, with the occasional branch off but they didn't go wandering. Though it was hard to see there was a path worn in the floor of the tunnel, the passage of centuries of feet traveling to the trading post having worn their faint traces in the ground. They stuck to the path. There was the risk of the welcome among the Spider Clan being less than warm but it was better than being lost and wandering for days in circles as their supplies dwindled and the dark closed in.

As the time wore on Ulrich began dozing on Peter's back. Same shadows, same yellowish grey stone, same cooling air, same smells, same sounds, same...

Peter came to an abrupt stop, causing Ulrich to lurch on his back.

"Wait, what?" Ulrich mumbled, straightening up. Kaelin had come to a stop, fist raised in the silent command to stop. Eyes narrowed she pointed into the dark.

Someone, something was there, something that had absolutely no right to be in the underworld.

It stood out in the gloom because its outline was a solid mass of black and then it moved.

The massive form of a truly huge friesian horse stood in the shadows, its legs feathered all the way to its knees and its hocks, the dark waterfall of its mane and tail nearly brushing the floor. It flicked an ear and turned its head towards then, revealing that it was not just a horse, its spiraling horn standing proud from its forehead but... It was not the straight horn of a true unicorn, its length curving backwards in an elegant, shallow arch to a truly deadly looking tip. There was a strange light in its eyes as it turned its massive barrel towards them and stepped forward. Kaelin's nose twitched. She could see it but she couldn't smell it, she couldn't smell a creature that should have been filling the tunnel with its distinctive hot, sweet grass smell.

It was wrong, not just because it was black and the horn was the wrong shape, there was something about the whole creature that made the mind scream that it was wrong, something that made part of the mind go into utter panic.

Then Jeremiah lifted a hand and arched his fingers at the creature, even as Thorian draw his massive sword. They had seen the rider on the creature's back. Huge, as barrel chested as his mount, face hidden in the shadows of his hood, the man (they assumed it was a man) held the reigns in gloved hands the size of shovel blades. If Kaelin took a guess she would have said that if the guy was stood on the floor he would have looked down on Thorian and would probably won a round of fisty cuffs against the orc crossbreed, his arms bulged with muscles the size of cricket balls. His eyes glowed with a fire that made Estella crouch, Valodrael raising up her throat. The rider watched them with narrowed interest and then turned his mount's head and flicked the reigns.

The black unicorn broke into a dead run, from stationary to dead sprint in a single stride. Kaelin flinched a they charged straight towards the shadowed face of the rock wall and...

The rock rippled like water as the pair dived into, rings of power spreading out for the point of impact and washing back as the last threads of tail vanished into the stone.

"Oy! Come back here!" Thorian bellowed and ran after them. He bounced off the stone with a solid sounding smack. He sat up and rubbed his head with a free hand. "Ow! Why did they make this all so easy?"

"You OK there, good man?"  Ulrich asked.

"Oh I'm grand," Thorian stood up, "I'm absolutely peachy." He hefted his sword and smacked it across the rock face where unicorn and rider had vanished. With a resounding clash, sparks spat from the rock as the metal scrapped down it. He hacked at the rock face for several minutes but there was no more effect than the shower of sparks that sizzled and died on the damp ground. Thorian turned away, slamming his sword back into its scabbard, grumbling orcish curses that crawled away to pop in the dark.

Kaelin waited a beat and then crept up to the rock face. She sniffed over the the stone, starting at the scratches Thorian had carved and then working out. She snorted and stepped back.

"Nothing," she reported, "No air flow, no scent. There may have been Ash Elves passed this spot but it was it was months ago, nothing more recent than that."

"My dear Kaelin," Jeremiah oozed, "As you were not paying attention a few minutes ago, all the rest of us quite distinctly saw someone on something dive into the space you say has no air flow as if it was the village pond."

"I know what you saw because I was watching it as well," Kaelin snapped, glaring at him, "And if you doubt my sense of smell all of a sudden, a sense of smell that you have relied upon several times already, then why don't you use some of those hoodoo powers of yours to have a look at it yourself?"

Jeremiah glared back, drawing himself up to his full height and then he stomped passed Kaelin, he blowtorch hot gaze focused on the rock face. Lifting his hands he began muttering, twisting the skeins of power together to reveal what had just transpired, to uncover the truth of who or what had been in the tunnel with them. He flicked his fingers at the wall, releasing the gathered power.

He stiffened as his god reached out and granted him a fraction of his own great insight, his eyes glowing with a purple hue as the material peeled back to reveal the immaterial. There was no tunnel, magically or material hidden behind the wall in front of him, instead stretching away before him was the world of the material turned into the impermanent water that it truly was, a gleaming river shot through with the shimmering threads of magic and the wills that shaped it. And there, galloping away through the water that was the material was the distant shape of the black unicorn and its rider, glowing, shining, burning with the sheer raw power that made the forms that encased their wills, their minds and their power, for there was no water covering them, keeping them enclosed and contained. Instead, they were their own containment s they traveled back to the water that housed them most of the time.

Jeremiah gasped and stumbled back as his god's perception released him.

"There is nothing there, not in the material," he admitted, struggling to hide his shakes, "That was an immensely strong spell."

"The whole diving into the solid rock? Yeah we figured that one," Ulrich noted.

"No," Jeremiah snapped, red in the face but not with the usual bile. He hated the fact he was betraying how unsettled he felt, "That wasn't a spell and they didn't dive into the solid rock because they were never here in the first place."

"Er, not sure I follow," Thorian scratched an ear.

"That whole... person," Jeremiah explained, "The whole image of what we saw, the rider, the unicorn, all of it was a full manifestation of far seeing."

"I take it that is impressive," Kaelin raised her eyebrows.

"Far seeing takes incredible focus and power just to perform," Jeremiah gestured expansively, "To manifest a stable mirage that other people can see as a solid object is beyond the scope of most practitioners, even if said mirage is in the same room as the person who attempting the far seeing own body. To project it successfully over leagues and leagues of distance... It is beyond what most mortals could attempt without going insane or perishing in the effort."

"So that was a very powerful wizard," Estella guessed.

"Powerful isn't the word," Jeremiah shook his head, "They must be pulling on the very source itself, the bedrock of the whole world to be able to conjure something like that. Something extremely paranormal has taken an interest in us. We will be watched from now on."

"And isn't that a reassuring thought," Ulrich noted, "Still this isn't helping us to get back to the surface. If something is taking an interest in us then we will just have to deal with it whenever it decides to interfere. If it is just curious, well let it watch."

"Er, no thanks," Kaelin folded her arms, "I'm not putting myself on display for some hocus pocus pervert, thank you very much."

Ulrich laughed.

"Well you could always put up a no peeping sign on the bathroom," he grinned and turned Peter's head to continue down the tunnel.

"Very funny," Kaelin scowled as she followed him.

The tunnel continued on into the dark, smelling of the musty scent of damp stone and cold air. Eventually Gerald's magical glow revealed that the way was splitting into three paths and there was no clear route going forward.

"I don't suppose you chaps know the way from here?" Ulrich asked. Quenril shook his head.

"The Spider Clan guarded their trade secrets well, just as we did," he admitted, "Even if we had visit their clan stronghold they would not have shown us the ways to the trade post with the dwerg."

"Well that is a lot of help," Jeremiah said, "It is so reassuring to know that our guides know exactly where we are. That is just so comforting."

The Ash Elves sent him a long, flat look but Jeremiah just grinned back at them. Kaelin stepped forward and started sniffing the air, drifting slowly from the entrance of one tunnel to the next, hunting for the traces of scent on the air.

"The middle one smells the least foul," she reported, "No smell of the Ash Elves but it smells the least green."

"Let's go down the middle one then," Thorian nodded, "Unlike some I trust mah friend's nose."

"Can a smell be green?" Jeremiah inquired with a small smile, as they started forward, "I was not aware that smells had color."

"You obviously haven't been near a sugar beat processing facility when they are working the harvest over," Estella noted, "If ever there was a green smell then that was it."

"You are forgetting cabbage, my sweet pea," Ulrich added, "Boarding school cabbage, boiled in the pot until the water is more green than the leaves. Now there is a scent that is so green it is yellow."

"That tanning place," Kaelin grunted as they started walking into the middle passage, "Now that smell was brown, definitely brown."

"You should have whiffed Sinbar's place when he was dunking those skeletons in those big buckets of his," Thorian nodded, "I'm not sure what color you'd call that, but it was sharp and it burnt."

"Orange," Kaelin said, "I'd go with orange."

"Er what's orange?" Thorian asked, scratching an ear.

"And here's you saying that the werewolf ghost I called up was lacking in the brain compartment," Jeremiah observed to Ulrich.

"It is the color that the dragon Amelia was," Kaelin interrupted before Jeremiah could be more unkind to Thorian.

"Oh that funny red that isn't quite yellow but isn't quite red either," Thorian nodded, "I didn't know you humans had a word for that color. Orange, orange, I like the word. Orange."

"Simple things please simple minds," Jeremiah observed but nobody else agreed with him.

The entrance of the passage had disappeared in the gloom when they looked back when they realized the way ahead branched again, one to the right, one to the left.

Kaelin stepped forward again, sniffing. After a moment she crouched and sniffed closer to the floor.

Ulrich noticed something trundling across the floor towards her.

"Kaelin I'd..."

The thing leapt up her nose, wedging itself in hard. Kaelin reeled back and sneezed, explosively. She sneezed and sneezed again and again and again. She sneezed until her eyes watered, she sneezed until it seemed her nose exploded, she sneezed until she was bent double, frantically scrabbling for something to wipe her face with. Estella darted forward with a handkerchief.

"Thank... Ah... Chooyouuuuu," Kaelin sneezed again and blew her nose. The handkerchief squelched. Kaelin sneezed and sneezed again. There was a solid sounding series of cracking echoing out a heartbeat after each of Kaelin's sneezes. Estella looked up and the black filled her left eye in an instant. She grabbed Kaelin bodily and leapt to the side of the cavern, grunting as they smacked into the wall.

"What the.... Ahhhh-chooo!" Kaelin sneezed again.

The stalactite shattered on impact, blasting into a thousand pieces where they had been standing a moment before.

Ulrich pulled Peter up short, another chunk of stone shattering just before them, the giant centipede whistling with distress as shards and shivers of stone nicked and gouged at its legs. Peter rippled and twisted sideways, Ulrich hanging on with both hands, watching the ceiling as he guided Peter through the storm of falling calcite. Left, right, arching back on himself as his many legs undulated across the floor, Peter whistled the entire time. At one point he seemed to be doing a complete loop as they threaded the barrage of tumbling minerals. Finally they reached the wall and Peter scrambled up it, Ulrich holding on tight.

Jeremiah yelled a prayer to his god, hands held up in a gesture of denial, Gerald quivering with fear and the effort of keeping Jeremiah's miter on his head as he glared up at the ceiling, defying the falling rubble. The power glowed into being above his head, a solid, impossible sheet of light that the chunks and lumps of stone burst upon as they rained down. Jeremiah's face turned red as he held the power in place, lips twisting as he muttered the words of his prayer over and over again, a mantra holding danger at bay. His hands were shaking by the time the fall slowed and stopped. With an explosive breath he let the shield fail, leaning forward on his knees as he did so.

The churn of rock span passed, slicing his scalp between the bottom of his miter, that Gerald was buzzing with all his strength to whole on, and the top of his ear. Jeremiah slowly lifted a head to his head and then looked at the blood on his finger tips. He glared at the piece of stone that had caused the damage. He spat a sizzling curse and the stone detonated with a snap bang.

"Steady on!" Thorian said stepping forward, "We don't want any more lumps of that..." A chunk the size of a fist knocked him on his head. He put up a hand and carefully rubbed the bump that was swelling and turning a very funny shade of brown.

"Ow!" he stated carefully.

"Oh smashing," Ulrich grinned as he rode Peter back down the wall and rejoined the ground. Thorian gazed at him flatly and then twonked Ulrich up the back of the head as he rode passed. Quenril and the other Ash Elves, returning from where they had run to half drew their swords but Ulrich held up a hand.

"It's alright chaps," he grinned, "I earned that one, it was a truly terrible joke." Quenril did not look convinced but before he could question the sense of sparing Thorian a chastisement a long, wet, ripping sound rang out. They all looked at the ceiling, waiting for another barrage to stones to start up again, holding their breaths for several minutes until they finally let it out in a collective rush.

Estella was looking at her original handkerchief with distaste before holding out at arms length and dropping the dripping wade of material on the floor. Kaelin blew her nose again on a second handkerchief.

"Oh ow," she whispered, "That was not nice. Haven't had one of those since the Wizard's Tower." She stood back up. "Do you want this back?" She held out the handkerchief.

"Er, you keep," Estella declined.

"Are you...?" Kaelin started and then grabbed her nose. Eyes wide, face contorting in strange way, she turned and headed into the left hand tunnel, letting her breath out after a few minutes. She blew her nose again and sniffed. After a moment the others started following her again, Jeremiah holding a hand to his scalp and muttering a prayer of healing. Ulrich glanced over at him and shuddered. He looked ahead and jumped on Peter's back, causing the centipede to squeak.

"Sorry, old boy, sorry," he patted the centipedes back. For a second, just for a second, he had thought he had seen the outline of a dragon's face on the wall of the tunnel, its purple eyes grinning at him with an amusement that made even Valodrael's smug hunger seem friendly.

The tunnel appeared to be utterly ordinary for this dark, closed in world, rough yellow-grey stone, damp, musty and mind numbing with its uniformity in the shadows. Only then it wasn't. It turned round a right hand curve and narrowed to nearly nothing with the abruptness of a trumpet horn. The King's Special and their allies came to a stop, staring at the narrow crack in the wall that lead on into the dark.

"We go back," Thorian stated, swinging round, heading back the way they came.

"Yeah," Kaelin drawled, sniffed and pressed the handkerchief to her nose, "We learnt that from last time."

"Last time?" Quenril queried, "I do not understand this 'last time'."

Jeremiah coughed.

"Really there is no need to go into details my good sir," he hurried through the explanation, "We have merely had experience with some what tight spots before this so I would say that Thorian's suggestion is eminently sensible."

Sabal leaned close to Tasnar's ear and whispered something into that long and pointed feature. Both of them sniggered. Jeremiah glared but the two Ash Elves looked back at him with innocent expressions, a gentle question in their eyes. Jeremiah turned away with a huff.

They plodded back, coming to the cave where the evidence of Kaelin's sneezing fit littered the floor.

"Er is that supposed to have happened?" Thorian asked. He was pointing at a pile of greenish grey, fibrous mats that heaped upon the floor and spread out from it. It had a most decidedly squarish look to its overall shape. Kaelin stared and then pulled out the other handkerchief. She stifled a squeak as she looked at it and tossed it down on the floor. The same greenish, bluish, grey mats where beginning to colonize the material. They glistened

"You seem to have an interesting effect on thing, my dear," Jeremiah said, "Tell me, do you suppose that it is also infesting your brain?"

"If it is, you'll be the first to know," Kaelin promised, but she edged round the twin masses of... something, wiping her hand continuously.

"It's only a coello peludo," Quenril stepped passed it without concern.

"And what is that when it's at home?" Kaelin asked. Quenril frowned but it was the frown of someone puzzled by the ignorance of another.

"I do not know the name of them in your tongue," he stated, "But they roll with the air currents until they see the chance of being inhaled into the nasal cavity of a creature."

"Does it then rot out the brain of said creature?" Jeremiah smiled, "How long does it take?"

Quenril's expression was one of boredom.

"It does no such thing," he said, "There are enough horrors in this world without that added to it. It causes the reaction that Lady Kaelin so ably demonstrated and then feds on the residue left behind. In a while it will dry out again and divide into many before it tumbles off down the tunnels again. Many will be eaten by the kerveads before one of its number will find another target."

"Ah the circle of life," Ulrich smiled, "Is it not an amazing thing?"

"As long as you are not the one caught in its teeth it is," Tasnar observed.

"Yes," Ulrich admitted after a moment, "There is that."

They were eventually back to the cave where the way had first divided. They looked at it. After a moment Thorian shrugged.

"Left is wider, let's go left."

As there was no obvious reason to argue with him, they went left.

He was right, it was a broader way but as they pushed on further into the dark Kaelin's recovering nose began to twitch. There was something on the air that was tickling her memory. She turned her head slightly.

"Tunnel over there," she pointed to a slightly smaller opening off on the left way.

"Oh good," Thorian nodded, "Cause this way's a dead end." In front of him the two walls of the tunnel curved towards each other and met, forming a solid wall. "Well, that's a lot of help. Just blooming great, just nothing is easy down here."

"Er, what's that sound?" Estella asked. Everybody shut up and looked around in Gerald's blue glow.

A soft, flabby sound was sounding out from several different places in the cave, as if a collection of half punctured footballs where being gently kicked around. Kaelin's ears twitched back and forth as they all started gazing at the gloom shrouded ceiling. She knew that sound, she definitely knew that sound.

Thorian frowned, pulled a light stick, standard, from a pouch he had tied to his belt and pulled the cord. As the quietly fizzing light blossomed into existence Thorian lifted the light stick high.

High up among the spires and fan of rock deposits eye blinked back at them, bulgy rock textured bodies sagging and squishing as they crawled about on their collection of tentacles. And there was a whole swarm of them.

"Perhaps we should..." Jeremiah started backing up.

The maws full of teeth opened up with soft sucking noises.

"Ah shate," Kaelin spat, reaching for Haggis. Quenril, Tasnar and Sabal got in first. As the swarm dropped from the ceiling, landing with soggy , flatulentual noises the three Ash Elves lifted their hand bows and squeezed the triggers. A cave octopod was nailed to the back wall of the cave with a solid thud. The others bounced up right and came bouncing towards the adventures with the soft, floppy noises, burping and farting as they came.

"Tally ho!" Ulrich grinned, sword clearing its scabbard, Peter swarming forward, Marmaduke clanging rhythmically as he stamped forward after his master. An octopod launched itself towards Ulrich, lamprey mouth stretching wide. It came apart as Ulrich's blade sheered through it. Other members of its brood leapt left and right as Peter snapped and stamped after them, Marmaduke bouncing them out of the air with the buckler on his left arm. Some how the octopods avoided the swinging sword in his right fist.

Kaelin blew into Haggis' blow stick even as the change began to crawl up her spine and bubble through her bones. The brazen, rollicking anthem rang through the cave, making the air shake and the rock spires hum. Suddenly the cave seemed bigger, broader more open and the now divided swarm, smaller and more isolate. It was the music of the mountains, of hill sides and glens, of proud survivors and people who wrestled their living out of the land every day, people who looked the grind of the teeth and claws of nature full in the face every day and said 'not today, sonnie jim!'

"Wah-hoah!" Thorian bellowed, the joy of the fight flooding his veins. Even Jeremiah stood taller and began chanting the praise of his god with more thunder and might.

Kaelin let the blow stick fall from her lips. An octopod that had bounced near her in confusion, wobbled itself into realizing that she was there. Kaelin grinned and crouched, spreading her arms as the change take full affect and her claws and teeth extended. The octopod bounced at her, teeth clashing. Kaelin bite back.

Ulrich turned his head at the sound of Kaelin retching, her front splattered with octopod gloop and her face twisted with disgusted. The unfortunate octopod who had thought she would be an easy target had quite literally popped between her teeth. The rest of that half of the swarm were retreating from her, fracturing further.

"And that is why we cultured people don't use our teeth," he called.

"Well I ain't culture," Kaelin snapped, punching another octopod out of the air as it bounced at her and ducking under a second.

Ulrich turned with a laugh, swinging wide with his sword... and an octopod latched shut on his wrist, teeth digging in deep. Ulrich yelled, waving his arm madly, trying to shake the damned thing off.

"Well I guess more cultured people just have more to bite," Kaelin called as she smacked another octopod out of the air.

The other half of the swarm closed in on Thorian, half a dozen leaping at him and trying their best to latch on to his armor but the heavy dragon scales seemed improvious to their teeth.

"Shield your eyes! It is sunshine time!" Jeremiah suddenly commanded and the King's Special, remembering the light stick he had used at Black Randle's cabin in the woods, ducked and covered their faces with their arms, their allies following a moment later. Jeremiah let the spell he had been working on go, muttering thanks to his god that he had been allowed to learn a magic that was not a prayer.

Even through their closed eyelids the King's Special 'saw' the miniture sun that burst into being in this dark space that had never seen daylight before. The effect on the octopods was immediate and some what gratifying - their shrilled louder than locomotive whistles and crashed into each other, the walls of the cave and stagimites, their floppy, frumpy sounds louder, more distressed than usual. Jeremiah grinned, a darkness of his own curdling in his eyes.

"Now feed," he commanded Nanny Tatters. The Crone Dragon blinked eyelids that should not exist and stepped forward. She turned her head, her one eye surveying what was on offer and then she chose the half swarm that hadn't broken down further yet. It had more octopods in it.

There was a sickly rattling, the breath of a dying beast, as Nanny Tatters' inhaled. One after the other the octopods exploded, popping like bags of gas, the mush of their internal workings rotting in an instant. Kaelin clapped a hand to her mouth as she heaved again. The smell! It was worse than a mound of rotting fish.

Thorian seemed unaffected though as he turned with a whoop and lunged into the middle of the disintegrating half swarm, his new armor not slowing him down that much. Those octopods didn't pop one after another, they burst on mass, even the one that was dangling off Ulrich's wrist.

"I say, steady on old body!" Ulrich exclaimed, "That was nearly my hand you know!"

"Three- teen for me!" Thorian cheered, "Eat that one, pretty boy!"

"If you don't mind, I'd rather not," Ulrich wrinkled his nose. Behind Thorian Kaelin threw up, again.

"Oh gods," Estella pressed a hand to her nose, her voice strained, "Can we please get out of here? I think I'm going to join Kaelin in a moment."

"Oh what's the matter, my dear?" Jeremiah asked, "Surely your little friend is upset that he didn't get to taste these foes."

Estella made a noise of distress and turned a most decided shade of green.

"Even he doesn't want to taste this stuff," she muttered and then doubled over. After a moment she started shuffling back down the tunnel, back towards the junction that they had already visited twice that day.

The smell didn't seem to have drifted that far so both Kaelin and Estella looked a lot better once the only thing they could smell was damp stone. Estella frowned suddenly.

"Just what is your problem?" she muttered to someone the others couldn't see.

"Taste those things?" an internal passenger grumbled, "Taste that sludge? That ooze? That filth? Just what does he think I am? A carrion eater? A vulture? A crocodile!?!"

Estella smiled.

"Thorian, can you give me a hand here?" Kaelin called. She still seemed green but she was already focusing on Ulrich's injured wrist, holding it up to reveal that the octopod's teeth where still embedded in his flesh. Peter coiled on the wall, feelers waving in the air.

"Okay dokay," Thorian strolled over, "What do you need?"

"For a start I need you to get those teeth out of there," Kaelin frowned, looking down into her pack, trying to spot what she needed. Estella came over and started looking for bandages and 'for healing' potion. Behind her, the Ash Elves started slotting together their pot bellied traveling stove so that they could boil water.

"Not a problem," Thorian grinned and took hold of them. It turned out that it was a problem, the muscle tissue of the octopod's lamprey like mouth having contracted on contact with air so that the teeth were clamped into Ulrich's wrist so tight their were scratching the bone.

"My dear friends," Jeremiah smiled, stepping forward as Ulrich yelled and tried to not to outright scream, "Why go to all this trouble when I can heal our good friend in a moment?"

"No thanks!" Ulrich snapped and then made a strangled sound as Thorian managed to drag the teeth free of his flesh.

"But surely, my dear Ulrich, you remember that I healed you without all this pain?" Jeremiah reminded.

"Yeah, I remember full well," Ulrich went pale as Thorian clamped his wrist in his ham like hands and Kaelin started the delicate, messy work of cleaning out the injury, "I'm not sure... ow... that I have... ahhhhh... fully recovered... oh dear gods! Fully recovered from that experience!" He dragged in a long breath, trying to not look as the thing of shadow and burning light that was lingering behind Jeremiah.

"Now, now, dear Ulrich," Jeremiah smiled, "What's one more between friends?"

"I said no thanks!" Ulrich snapped and then turned his face away with a smothered squeak, closing his eyes, praying to any god that was out there that might make that... that thing disappear.

"As you wish," Jeremiah turned and sauntered over to the other side of the cave, calling the blue eyed vigor over to him and rummaging around in his pack to see what Myslynn had given them in the way of supplies.

Estella and Kaelin watched Ulrich's reaction, looked at each other and then went back to work on his wrist. The 'for healing' potion smoked gently as it was dripped in. After a quiet discussion with Estella and a look at some of their new supplies, Sabal helped them pack the wounds with wads of a fibrous material that had been wrapped tight in a strange see through film. Once the bandage was tied tight, Estella helped fashion a sling out of some spare material and Kaelin guided Ulrich's arm into it.

"We'll look at it tomorrow," Kaelin noted, "But if you heal as fast as you did from that spider bite, then you should be well on the way to being fine."

"So we call it a day here?" Ulrich was looking more than a little grey at the gills.

"I would consider that a sensible idea, Sir Ulrich" Quenril stepped up, a mug of something steaming held in his hands, "May I suggest this to help remedy your pain?"

"Will it knock me out?" Ulrich asked, frowning slightly.

"Nah, Sir Ulrich," Quenril smiled, "Such a thing would not be sensible in the Underworld. It will remove the pain but your mind will remain as wake as you wish it to be."

"Alright," Ulrich accepted the mug and took a sip. "It's not bad," he admitted. He drank some more and then drained the cup. He handed it back.

"Come to the stove, all of you," Quenril invited.

"Don't mind if I do," Thorian said, "I don't know about you lot but it's right nithering compared to Myslynn's place."

"Such is the strangeness of the world," Tasnar observed, "It is warmer, at least at times, on the surface and it is warmer down deep in the heart of Hestia but in our realm it is always cool."

"I for one find the heat of the realm of the dwerg's over powering," Sabal agreed.

"You may find the night shift to be more comfortable up on the surface then," Ulrich said as he sat down on the bedroll Quenril rolled out for him.

"I say, you alright?" Thorian asked him.

"Yes, yes I'm fine," Ulrich smiled slightly, "I, well, I have been better but that drink seems to have done the job."

"You don't look it," Kaelin stated. His pupils were blown wide open.

"I'm fine," Ulrich replied, "I feel a little light headed but it is nothing I haven't felt before, though usually I feel a little more dizzy when I'm feeling this light and usually a lot more unsteady. Right now I feel as steady as a rock." He picked up a rock and tossed it up and down for a few moments, never missing the catch. "You see? I would not be able to do that when I am drunk."

"How's the pain?" Estella asked, an interested light in her eyes.

"That's the really weird thing," Ulrich admitted, "The pain is still there, I can feel it but its also at a distance. It's like... it's like it is outside of my body instead of inside it, so it is easier to think and move round it. I need to acknowledge there fact it is there or I could do myself a worse injury but it is not the overwhelming, I-can't-get-away-from-it pain that it was."

Estella nodded and then looked at the Ash Elves.

"If you know the recipe for that then you could make yourself a pile of money up on the surface," she noted.

Quenril frowned.

"Your meaning, good lady?" he asked.

"In the world without a roof," Estella explained, "The medicines that are used to keep pain at bay are some what limited and most of them have unwanted side effects."

"The most basic one is to smack the person over the head to knock them out but that can cause even more damage on top of the damage they are already dealing with," Kaelin observed.

"Then there is that fire in a bottle," Thorian's mouth turned down, "You love it when you drink it but it makes you feel like a woolly horn yak has been stomping on your head the following day. I don't like it."

"Then of course there is the milk of the poppy," Jeremiah added, joining them, "That is one of the best for removing the pain."

"And what 'side effect' does that one have?" Quenril narrowed his eyes at the priest.

"Oh nothing, nothing at all," Jeremiah smiled.

"Nothing if you ignore the fact that people wind up addicted to the numb feeling that it gives and when they try to stop taking it it puts them through hell," Estella spat, "You forget, priest, that my people are still healing from the scars that the Albion Empire left us with."

"What's that all about, old bean?" Ulrich asked, his eyes still open too wide. Estella simmered down.

"The Albion Empire traded poppy blood for the wealth of our nation and very nearly destroyed us," Estella wrapped her arms around her ribs, "The Astral All Father had to call in every ally that we had to drive them away and even then, it was only because the Albions started dredging the wetlands to make new passages for their ships and thus earned the ire of the Swamp Dragons that we won in the end. That and the Tomb Dragon that brought the Albion Empire to complete and utter smash. The Astral All Father still fears that the Albions may one day return to force their poison upon us."

"In that case, I'd say that what ever was in that mug will earn you a pretty penny with the doctors," Ulrich smiled at Quenril, "As long as it is not addictive and strangely I don't think this is. Don't get me wrong, I've played with some interesting things over the years and come close to getting myself snared a couple of times, so I'm speaking from experience when I say that this is just a little too strange to be addictive." He frowned and shook his head. "If you don't mind chaps, I'm going to turn in for a while. The way everything has turned blue is making my eyes ache."

"As you wish, Sir Ulrich," Quenril nodded and Ulrich turned away to roll himself up in his bedroll, careful to lay without putting pressure on his wrist.

"Would our potions be tradable goods up on the surface?" Tasnar asked, leaning forward as Sabal started work on heating some food on the pot bellied stove.

"Don't see why not," Kaelin admitted, "That and some of the food stuffs would probably considered delicacies. For that matter, did the Snake Clan have a trading post with the dwergs?"

"Not directly," Quenril admitted.

"Shame," Kaelin noted, "There are a lot of things that you could trade between the dwerg's and the people of the surface and with how dangerous the Underworld is you'd pretty much have the monopoly on the trade route."

The Ash Elves looked at each other and raised their eyebrows. It certainly seemed to strike them as worth thinking about.

The King's Special nattered on for a while longer before sorting out who was taking each watch and those not needed heading to their bed rolls. The quiet of the Underworld closed in around them, the breath of Hestia made out of the drip of water, the small sounds of sleeping companions and the tinkle of the pot bellied stove cooling.

Outside of the circle of dim light the dark closed in, waiting. However, it was not unwatched. Ulrich rolled over, careful of his wrist but after a moment he slit open an eye. He'd been right. His blue washed vision had shown him but he hadn't wanted to be obvious with his looking. Nanny Tatters, who stood slumped near Jeremiah, was definitely different. Not only was she now covered in a layer of scaleless skin but she also had a residual stump of a tail beginning to form. Ulrich turned his gaze from Nanny Tatters to were a small movement had caught his attention.

Estella's eye was completely black, its open gaze at odds with her relaxed face. After a moment her head moved fractionally. Ulrich nodded back and closed his eye again. He wasn't the only one who was aware of the change. For the moment, that was as good as he needed. For the moment.